


The Altruist and the Anachronism

by AssistedRealityInterface



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: #avengers, #first impressions, #romance, #wip, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-19
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-29 18:47:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 131
Words: 350,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssistedRealityInterface/pseuds/AssistedRealityInterface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hearing about Tony Stark before meeting him is never a good way to make a first impression, especially if you're suddenly back in New York, surrounded by people you barely know, and a future that seems to be actively trying to mess with you. When that's exactly what happens, however, meeting the myth himself tends to be a bigger shock than you could have ever imagined...at least, if you're Steve Rogers, and have no clue why he seems to have an odd obsession with you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. For a Man Out of Time

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a first chapter, and honestly, more of an experiment than anything. I want to see if my work is worth keeping up and putting out there...this is sort of a test run on something I've actually plotted, (to an extent), and worked on. So...uh, here's the results, I guess.  
> Not much to say about this; this is more of a set-up than anything. Though I will admit that this was initially shorter, fluffier, and lighter; it sort of settles into what feels like an entirely new plot later on in the story, but I promise, it all fits together. This is a lighter,more humorous chapter, though, rather than...well, whatever else it is that I do.  
> Enjoy, I suppose. Hope this passes esteem.

Steve was always a very focused person, back in the forties. He could pay attention to little details for hours; he was an artist, and he observed the smallest, most insignificant details, only to draw them out later. It was good, that way of thinking, of observing--slow and gentle and all-consuming.

  


Unfortunately, these days, he couldn't really think like that anymore. The world had changed around him, faster than he could even comprehend--it had been almost eighty years at this point, and there was so much to learn and see and observe that he figured even if he had eighty thousand hands he could never get it all down on paper.

  


To prevent him from having some kind of future-related freak out, S.H.I.E.L.D. had pretty much confined him to the base. That was okay with Steve; the sparse architectural design wasn't like anything he had ever drawn before, but it was plenty of new material, in a very boxy, angular sort of way.

  


So at least he had something to do, aside from sit in his room and listen to old Ella Fitzgerald records, (which Agent Coulson had helpfully supplied; Steve quite liked him. The man was a huge jazz buff, and even though it did perturb him slightly that it was now filed under "classical," he ignored that in favor of hours-long conversations with the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and unduly-elected superhero nanny about the merits of Louis Armstrong.)

  


The thing was, the other Avengers were beginning to, well...assemble. Steve was never a very outgoing man in the first place--Bucky had been his only true friend he had known before the war, and that had been enough for him--but as he met these Avengers, he realized that the people had changed just as much as the world had.

  


Clint and Natasha had been the first two Avengers he had met. They were S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives, after all; they were in the building more often. Clint had offered to play cards with him, and Steve had happily accepted, memories of midnight games of War with the Commandos flooding his thoughts.

  


Card games with Clint and Natasha were a little...different, of course, but card games themselves didn't really change. Steve still lost more hands than he won, but he didn't begrudge Natasha and her glorious poker face for any of this. (Honestly, sometimes Steve wondered if all the science fiction novels were right, and she was part android in some way.)

  


He liked Clint; brash, loud, brave Clint, who loved the Avengers so fully and completely that Steve recognized almost immediately that this group had become Clint's life. He respected a man that dedicated to his cause, and he didn't hesitate to tell Clint so. Clint had just stared at him for a minute before laughing and shaking his head.

  


"Cap, you gotta know something; to be told you're a good man by Captain America is like having Santa show up to your house to personally inform you you're on the nice list for life. That...means a lot." He confessed, and there was no trace of his normal snappish wit in the last sentence--he meant what he said, and Steve just grinned, glad that he was working with someone like Clint. He was simple, and honest, and clever; to a degree, he reminded him of Bucky. They had the same swagger in their step.

  


Natasha was a bit harder to figure out. He had never been very good with women anyway, but she seemed to regard his politeness as a shock. This annoyed him; if a man wasn't pulling out a chair and opening doors for a lady, there was a problem. He would have to talk to Fury about how he trained the agents.

  


Still, he was always polite as he could be, even though she was one of the prettiest women he had ever met in his life, and it made it incredibly awkward to talk to her, sometimes--the only pretty woman he had ever talked to in his life, (aside from his mother, of course!), was Peggy, and...well...

  


Actually, it took her a bit longer than Clint, but she warmed up to him. Steve noticed her laughing more around him, and smiling when he cracked a joke. (He still didn't entirely understand modern humor, but Clint informed him that was "part of his charm" and that he should keep doing what he was doing. He was just going to listen to Clint on this one.)

  


Natasha was strange, but Steve liked her, and respected her as an ally and powerful soldier in her own right. She had overpowered Clint easily in one of their training sessions, and Steve hadn't even bothered volunteering to spar against her; he knew he would pull all his punches, and she would decimate him, completely and utterly.

  


But that was all right, because he figured she knew, from the teasing grins she would send his way when they trained, and how he instinctively reached out to help her whenever Clint got a shot in.

  


Natasha was genuinely an enigma, but Steve liked the parts of her that she dared to show him, letting her guard down for the legend that was Captain America, and that was enough for him. Her smile became more and more human the more time she spent around him and Clint and Coulson...and that was worth something.

  


The next Avenger to show up was Bruce. Steve liked him--he thought the doctor had a wicked sense of humor, and he was, of course, brilliant. He explained to Steve most of the modern happenings as best as he could, and for that, Steve was very grateful. Sure, he didn't know much about radiation, (or care, honestly), but Bruce also knew about swell things like cell phones and laptops and televisions that were bigger than him and in _color_!

  


He was one of the only people who wasn't a bit afraid to be around Bruce, he noticed; even Clint and Natasha seemed to keep their distance a little. When he asked Bruce why, the doctor just shrugged, moving one of his chess pieces across the board. (Steve was not a very good chess player, but Bruce was a fan, and he had needed a partner, so Steve had volunteered.)

  


"I turn into a seething mass of muscle and fury if I get angry." He said wryly, brushing a stray curl out of his face. "It means it's probably not a lot of fun to be around me if we're in a fight or playing gin rummy."

  


Steve just observed him carefully before he nodded and grasped Bruce's shoulder, giving him a quick smile.

  


"It's okay." He told him. "Everyone gets angry. When they do, they deserve their space, of course, but they deserve help, too. Don't worry. We're team mates, right? I'll make sure you're okay." He promised. Bruce raised an eyebrow and shook his head, but there was a smile on his face.

  


"All right, Captain." He agreed, pushing his queen forward. "I still don't think you understand what "hulking ragebeast" entails, but it's a little hard not to trust you." He shrugged. "Maybe it is good you like spending time around me. It's a little hard to get angry around Captain America." He mused. "Also, checkmate."

  


Steve groaned, but Bruce was laughing, and Steve realized that was the first time he had heard him laugh since they had met, so he didn't begrudge him the chess match too much.

  


...  


The week dragged on after that; the next two days were an endless blur of training and de-briefing, but the week after, Coulson kept storming in and cursing up a storm. Clint or Natasha would put a comforting hand on his shoulder and guide him into his chair every time he came back from wherever he was going, and they would speak in hushed voices for a bit.

  


Steve never questioned it, because he didn't want to get involved if they didn't want him to be, but then, by the middle of the week, when he had already stormed in and out a good six times, Coulson finally cracked as they were listening to a modern jazz record he had wanted Steve to experience.

  


Suddenly, with no warning save a twitch of his jaw, Coulson threw his hands up and groaned in frustration. Steve blinked, surprised, as he began to rant, as if he had been waiting to vent for quite some time.

  


"I can't fucking stand him!" He raged, massaging his temples like he was trying to keep his head from exploding. "Sorry, Captain--I'm sure you don't approve of my language, but believe me, if you knew Tony Stark--"

  


"Who?" Steve asked, confused. Coulson snorted, clearly disgusted. He paused the music and sighed, sinking into his chair.

  


Coulson sighed and gestured vaguely about the room, sinking into his chair and continuing his explanation. Steve was confused, certainly, both by the outburst and the name, but Coulson was apparently up to explain.

  


"We've been recruiting other Avengers, of course, and actually, we're almost done explaining "Midgard" to Thor, he'll be showing up tomorrow--but there's a member you haven't met yet." Coulson grumbled. "That man happens to be Iron Man--also known as Tony Stark, also known as the one man I would gleefully lock in the Casket of Ancient Winters and _keep him in there_."

  


Steve blinked. Coulson was unflappable, normally; polite and reserved and determined to do his job properly. Steve respected the man, and even considered him a friend, rather than just a colleague. To see him this flustered wasn't just a shock--it was genuinely worrying. It meant that there was a real problem...one that he had to try to at least learn about and attempt to fix.

  


Still, before he learned anything else, or attempted to help in any way, there was...there was something he had to know. Coulson was talking about him like he was some sort of violent psychopath; if he was anything like the Red Skull, then...

  


"Is he a bad person?" Steve asked. Even while he considered this, the name Howard Stark was, of course, at the forefront of his mind, but Stark was a common name, he surmised--surely it wasn't the same man. If Coulson had met Howard, he would've liked him. His son couldn't be so different as to be evil!

  


"Yes." Coulson muttered. "He's not a criminal or anything, he's just--insufferable! Absolutely insufferable! Flirtatious, bossy, prissy, completely unable to focus on anything that doesn't interest him--he's an impossibility! I can't deal with him! And yet here I am, trying to do so." He sighed. "He hasn't been at the meetings because he's been building an armor designed specifically to neutralize the Hulk if he goes bonkers. Every time I go over there and check on progress, though, it is, without fail, him and that assistant of his arguing in his garage! I don't know how she stands him, honestly--I spent a week with him, and it was like trying to fit my head into a blender and puree it, I swear..."

  


Steve gathered he didn't like this man much. He wanted to ask if he was related to Howard, of course, but from the murderous look in Coulson's eyes, he figured he wasn't up to answering. He just turned the music back on and let Coulson relax, figuring he would ask Natasha, Clint, or Bruce about it tomorrow.

  



	2. Questions on the Wayward Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve discusses a few things on the matter of Tony Stark with almost everyone on base. And yet, he still cannot get a straight answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sort of debated bringing Tony in this chapter, but I figured it would be more fun to string everyone along. After all, part of the fun is the build of suspense! Plus, this chapter was starting to get long as it is, especially with some new things I added. At any rate...well, hope this chapter is as good as the first one. Starting to juggle the entire cast at once, now. And it's weird, because the way I write movie!Fury is much, much different than comics!Fury, which just leads to...weirdness. Not bad, though. And oh, yes, hinted at another few pairings, though the extent to which any of them will show up remains to be seen...I have a terrible feeling this one's gonna be another behemoth fic. Anyways--enjoy, share the love, and I hope you like this chapter.  
> OKAY: quick note because I keep getting comments on this!  
> For those of you who do not know, the whole Spanish Inquisition line? It's a Monty Python reference. It's not a reference to the actual historical event, which WAS way before 1942. I'm not stupid, I know my history. Please know that it is JUST A JOKE. Augh. Thank you.

Unfortunately, Steve had no time to ask Natasha about Tony, because on Thursday, Thor showed up at the main S.H.I.E.L.D. base. Steve was awed by the other man--a god, (okay, an alien humans had assumed were gods, but it was close enough!), on the Avengers team? He was stunned.

 

So of course the first thing they did was fight.

 

Well, not fight; more like spar. Thor had taken one look at him over the meeting table and thrown his hammer on it, (breaking yet another table--according to Coulson, they were on their fifth, and he was thinking of just having a bunch of bean bag chairs like he was a day care teacher managing them for "circle time" or something. Steve didn't get it, but this was apparently deeply humorous for both Clint and Coulson.)

 

"Rogers!" He said jovially, completely unaware of the sparks flying from his hands, (or, in what was much more likely, entirely uncaring.) "I have heard of your exploits as the Captain of America. You seem like a worthy man to face my hammer in battle. I have yet to meet any Midgardian who might try. Fury said there were training grounds here?"

 

"...Yes." Steve managed to tell him, despite feeling a little intimidated by the god and his mannerisms. "But I think Coulson had something he wanted to--"

 

"Oh, by all means, take him." Coulson snapped. "Go, Steve."

 

"But, I--I thought--"

 

" _Go._ " Coulson repeated.

 

Steve just beckoned to Thor and they were out the door in a matter of seconds.

  
...

Steve ducked and rolled, grabbing his shield and deflecting a blow from Mjolnir. The sparks ran over his shield, but he felt no pain from them; they were small, fine threads of lightning that barely passed the shield's surface. He knew Thor wasn't at full power, but that was all right--this was just a training session, after all, and to see the god in action, even at half-power, was an awesome sight.

 

Thor lifted his hammer up, and looked at Steve for a second, as if he was considering something. Then he smiled. It was a warm smile that spoke of nothing but trouble and mischief. Steve winced despite himself.

 

"So, shieldbrother," Thor said, lifting himself up from the rubble around them. "Have you heard of the man the Son of Coul referred to as Anthony Stark?"

 

Steve blinked, both shocked and a bit jealous. Even Thor knew about him? How was that possible?

 

Evidently, the question was written all over his face, because Thor laughed uproariously and clapped him on the shoulder. Steve was just grateful his collarbone didn't shatter.

 

"Fear not, shieldbrother, it is no shame to have yet to meet him. He has kept to himself for a time, according to Fury. I did not ask for specifics. However, the Son of Coul was with me as I learned to adjust to Midgard, and he spoke..." Thor frowned, clearly unsure of how to explain it. "...He spoke... _interestingly_ about Anthony Stark. Neither for good nor of ill."

 

"Just a lot of anger and frustration." Steve said. Thor nodded.

 

"Indeed." He agreed. "I am starting to believe they bicker. Often."

 

"Most likely." Steve replied, unable to stop a quick chuckle. "Coulson seems like he's constantly on the verge of strangling him, from what I've heard. But...I've never even met him."

 

"Perhaps you will soon, shieldbrother." Thor responded. "Still, he is not here now, but this battle field is, and I wish to continue our training!"

 

Steve threw himself into the sparring session with all he had after that, but there was still a small, secret part of him that was wondering about the man named Tony Stark.

  
...

"Tony?" Clint said, laying down his hand as Steve sighed and accepted defeat in yet another game of poker. "Yeah, I've met Tony. Mind you, I've been Coulson's therapist in the aftermath of dealing with Tony Stark more than I've actually met him in person, but still." He took everyone's cards and re-dealt them as Steve listened intently. "You wanna know what he's like, huh?"

 

"Yes, please." Steve responded politely. Clint snorted. Clint always seemed to find his politeness amusing. He would never understand why.

 

"See, this is why I think he'd drive you crazy. I don't think he even knows what the word please _means_ , Steve. Tony Stark is just...bratty, self-centered, sarcastic, bitchy...and so charismatic that it's impossible to care. He's..." He shrugged as Natasha interrupted, giving Clint a quick look.

 

"Clint, you're being unfair." She told him. "I have met Tony Stark, Steve. I worked with him, in fact--well, more as an undercover bodyguard than anything...but no, I knew him." She smiled. "He was a good man. A strange, frustrating, enigmatic man, but ultimately, a very good man."

 

"That's all that matters." Steve said simply. "But I have a question I want to ask him..."

 

They pestered him about it for the rest of the night, but Steve didn't give in to their pleas. Now he wanted to ask the man himself; he wanted to hear the words from his lips, and know if he was anything like the Howard Stark he had admired back in the war.

  
...

"Tony?" Bruce said, clearly shocked as he stared at Steve. "You actually _want_ to meet Tony?"

 

"Yes...?" Steve said, raising an eyebrow, officially confused. "He's on the team, it's been almost two weeks, and--well--" He shook his head. He hadn't told anyone about Howard Stark. He hadn't felt up to it, and it would just open up questions he didn't want to answer. He suspected Fury knew, but then again, Fury knew everything.

 

"...I just want to meet him." Steve finished lamely. "Why is that such a big deal?" He huffed. "I keep hearing all these things about him--he can't be as bad as Coulson says he is, I mean, he's an Avenger, he's a hero--"

 

"Tony Stark is not a man you're going to understand at first, Steve." Bruce said, changing the channel of the television they had blaring as background music to their game of checkers. "He's simply the exact opposite of everything you are. Normal people, or even people that are attuned at least a little to the man's wavelength, like myself? It took me a month to tell when he was joking and when he was serious. I don't think you're going to be able to mesh with him at first--or, possibly, at all." He predicted. Steve shook his head.

 

"No." He said. "He's an Avenger. He's a hero. That means--that means, where it counts, I mean--we're alike. And that's all that matters to me."

 

Bruce chuckled and jumped Steve's piece, claiming himself a king. Steve groaned. Bruce just patted his shoulder comfortingly.

 

"It'll be all right. I have it on semi-decent authority that he'll actually be at Friday's meeting. How they got him here on a Friday is beyond me, but there you go." He offered. Steve blinked.

 

"T-that's...two days from now!" He said, clearly shocked. "I don't have time to plan, I mean, what do I say, how do I --"

 

Bruce laughed, cutting him off gently as he put his hand on Steve's shoulder.

 

"You're acting like a girl who just got asked out on a date. Just relax. You're Cap. He'll like you. It's just a matter of you learning to like him." Bruce told him.

 

Steve just sunk back in his chair, his thoughts somewhere else entirely as Bruce claimed and conquered his entire set of red pieces.

  
...

Thursday, Steve paced his room, deep in thought. He needed to know a little more about Tony. He was getting so many conflicting reports, and...and he just didn't really know how to feel about the man. Was he a hero, as Howard had been? Was he a psychotic, puppy-murdering lunatic, like Coulson had made him out to be? Somewhere in between, or nowhere at all?

 

He sighed. There was only one person that he really believed would have the closest-to-honest truth on Tony Stark. Trouble was, that one person was the only person on S.H.I.E.L.D. base that Steve slightly cringed about talking to.

  
...

Nick Fury was a very intimidating man. Not a bad man--just intimidating. Steve was amazed that he had gotten so far, initially, considering the color of his skin, and he had thanked him profusely for setting a wonderful precedent for civil rights and desegregation.

 

Nick had looked at him for a minute, with that single inscrutable eye, and then, oddly enough, started to laugh. Steve didn't particularly understand why, until Coulson had given him a book on the 1960s and the civil rights movement. Then he was just filled with an overwhelming sense of relief on behalf of his country.

 

In any case, it wasn't that his skin color mattered to Steve; it was that Nick Fury, just as a man, was incredibly charismatic while still seemingly capable of tearing your throat out with his pinky fingernail. It made having a conversation sort of...awkward. Especially since Steve still wasn't sure where he stood with the inscrutable S.H.I.E.L.D. director, or his quiet assistant, who always seemed to know where he was.

 

Still, Steve needed to find out about Tony Stark, and the one person with all the files and information in S.H.I.E.L.D. was Nick Fury. So he steeled himself and left his room, making his way towards Nick's office.

 

It was normally a ten-minute walk. With Steve's speed, he made it there in three, simply by going at a brisk pace. He knocked on the door lightly before calling, "Director Fury? I have something I need to ask you about."

 

There was silence for a moment. Then from behind the door; "Come in, Captain Rogers."

 

Steve opened the door and entered the office, smiling nervously. Nick sat at his desk, a few files spread across his desk. Behind him, a phone in her hands, stood Maria Hill, texting someone. Steve wasn't really sure how texting worked yet, but Maria seemed to be messaging someone urgently.

 

"You can call me Steve, you know. Or just Cap." He said. "Coulson does. So does everyone else."

 

"General courtesy, Captain." Nick replied. "Seems fair. You're a damn sight older than I am, and I was brought up to respect my elders." He chuckled at the expression on Steve's face. "It doesn't feel like you're really almost ninety, does it?"

 

"Far as I'm concerned, sir, I'm not." Steve said. "But that's neither here nor there. I have a question for you." He swallowed. S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol was still, by and large, a major mystery to him, but Clint and Natasha constantly hounded Coulson with questions about missions and classified info, so there probably wasn't a big issue against it.

 

"All right, Captain. Shoot." Nick replied. Steve inhaled sharply and wished he had brought his shield for support.

 

"It's about Stark, sir." He explained. "Tony Stark. I've been hearing...conflicting reports about him, from numerous sources, but I've never met him in person, so I have no judgement to pass...and it's, well, confusing. He's supposed to be my teammate, and if that's true, I'd like to know more about him."

 

An awkward silence passed in the room for awhile. Steve became very aware of how easily Nick could hide his body and make it so that he had never existed.

 

Nick just smiled.

 

"Understandable." He responded. "Stark doesn't make himself easy to understand, or particularly accessible. Most of us have issues contacting him, and we've actually met him." Nick shook his head. "However, Stark is an Avenger--when he feels like showing up for meetings, that is--and as such, we have a complete file on him."

 

"Oh." Steve said. "Well, I don't need a file. That's an invasion of privacy, and it's really unfair. I just...want to know about him. Have you met him?" He asked.

 

Nick seemed amused by his response, which confused Steve, but he nodded in agreement and continued to explain, which relieved him.

 

"I have." Nick said. "A few times. He is...very interesting, Captain."

 

"Coulson said he eats babies." Steve replied. "I have reason to assume he was joking, but..."

 

"He was." Nick said, trying not to laugh, and mostly succeeding. "Coulson and Stark have...a certain degree of animosity between them, but there is a mutual respect there as well. It's why I send him out to deal with Stark, more often than not."

 

"Plus, you wouldn't want to get your hands dirty with him, would you, sir?" Maria said quietly. Steve jumped, surprised at her sudden input; Nick just laughed.

 

"Yes, that too." He agreed. "Coulson is in charge of the Avengers forces. Stark is his problem." He turned to address Steve again. "But as for Stark himself, well...as I said, I've met him. Steve, to tell you the truth..." He sighed.

 

"Stark is a good man." Nick told him. "Where it counts, anyway. Even if he's not always making the best choices, or doing the most reasonable thing...he tries. And he isn't like you. He hasn't always been presented with the best situations to do good in, or the lifestyle where it's encouraged." Nick said. "But he tries, and when he succeeds, he succeeds with aplomb, which is why I made him an Avenger."

 

"Okay." Steve nodded. "That's...really what I needed to know." He said. "Thank you, Director Fury."

 

"No trouble." Nick said. "That's all you want to know? I'm a bit surprised. I was expecting a Spanish Inquisition."

 

"A what?" Steve asked. Nick chuckled.

 

"After your time." He explained. "Still, I am a little shocked. Are you sure there's nothing else you need to know?"

 

"Well, Tony will be here tomorrow." Steve said. "For the briefing, I mean. So...I'll find out then." He grinned sheepishly. "I just wanted to make sure he wasn't, you know, a bad person."

 

"He is an enigma, a genius, an eccentric scientist, and a complete and utter pain in the ass, at his best. He is also incredibly charming." Nick said. "So no, he is not a bad person. But..." She shrugged. "I can't really prepare you for Tony Stark. No one can."

 

"All right." Steve replied. "Thank you, director. I have a few things to attend to, so...could I be dismissed?"

 

Nick tried not to let the amusement show on his face; after all, Steve was an Army man at heart, it wasn't fair to laugh.

 

"Dismissed, Captain." He said. "I will see you later."

 

Steve saluted him sharply and left the room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. Nick could hear Maria laugh softly for a second before she quieted herself, giving him a look.

 

"So, sir," Maria began, "do you think that went well?"

 

"As well as could be expected, yes." Nick responded. "We'll see how he takes to Tony tomorrow. This could be interesting."

 

"Oh, he will." Nick said. "I gave him quite an incentive."

 

"You told him Captain Rogers was here?" Maria asked, shocked. "I thought you wanted that to remain a secret!"

 

"I didn't tell him the good Captain was here, no," Nick said, "but I gave him hope. And hope, Maria, will make a man do much more than he believes himself capable of; especially in the case of Tony Stark."

 

"...I can't argue with that, sir." Maria agreed. "Tomorrow will be interesting."

 

"Mhm." Nick said. "Why don't you take the night off?" He suggested, doing a sudden one-eighty. Maria blinked.

 

"...Sir?" She asked, waiting for some sort of explanation. Nick smiled, amused, and gestured to her phone.

 

"You've been texting your girlfriend this entire meeting." He told her. "It seemed like an argument. You only text that fast if you're arguing with someone. And I _have_ been working you particularly hard since the Captain showed up. I doubt he would agree with me working a lady to the bone."

 

"...Yes, I would have to agree..." Maria mused. "His discussion with the other agents about their treatment of Agent Romanov was...enlightening."

 

"And amusing." Nick agreed. Maria nodded. He gestured to the door.

 

"So, then. Go home, pick up some flowers on the way, apologize, and take her out for dinner. Something nice." Nick said. "Especially since I have a feeling that pretty soon, we're going to start pulling all-nighters again."

 

Maria resisted the urge to sigh.

 

"Yes, sir." She replied, leaving the room, betraying no sound as she left, disappearing as if she had never been in the room to begin with.

 

Nick just opened one of the files on his desk--the file that read "ROGERS, STEVE" in bold, black print--and made a few notes.

  
...

Back in his room, Steve surveyed his closet with a sense of urgent desperation.

 

He wanted to look nice for the meeting--well, granted, he always thought it was appropriate to dress properly, but there were times when he had been in the middle of training and shown up sweat-soaked and in a tank top and jeans. He hadn't seen anyone who minded, (and in fact, a few of the others looked appreciative), but he wanted to dress smart for Tony. He wanted to make a good first impression, after all.

 

In his heart, he knew the man was Howard's son. He hadn't even had to ask; the description of Tony had settled it for him. But he couldn't believe it--wild, fast-paced, brilliant Howard had settled down and had a son? How? And why? Was Tony really and truly anything like him?

 

He didn't want Tony to be Howard. If he was going to leave the past behind, he would do it without keeping himself tethered to anything at all--not even the best parts of it. He wanted Tony to be something new.

 

So he would dress properly for tomorrow's meeting, to make a good first impression on the mysterious Tony Stark. The trouble was picking out an outfit.

 

Steve frowned and observed his (admittedly limited) wardrobe. He had a lot of work to do.

 


	3. New Recruits for the Boy Band

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony finally shows up. Steve is surprisingly okay with being kidnapped when it's an attractive, eccentric bastard doing it. Also, evidently, Tony feeds on unicorns. Much emotional bonding is had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think I am totally fucking up this comments thing, and I am terribly sorry. Definitely not used to AO3 yet. I will continue to try to wrangle with this system, and continue replying to all the lovely people who comment. Thank you so much, it's like water to the sponge that is my writer's ego.  
> So Tony finally shows up, good for him. Fun fact: all his dialogue was written at two in the morning. Honestly, I write a much better Tony at two in the morning; his disjointed sarcasm comes much more naturally. So there you are.  
> P.S. I really like Pulp Fiction you guys. In case that had to be explained.  
> Not much else to say about this chapter. Tony is an overemotional basket case. Steve is a perfect boyfriend slash emotional baggage carrier. They are clearly perfect for each other.  
> Anyways, hope you all enjoy this one! And yes, barring, like, a bear destroying my laptop, daily updates for awhile, since there's a ton of this already written. Just so you know to check up on me every day.

"...So, Phil," Clint began hesitantly, "how do you think Steve is going to take this meeting?"

  


The three of them--Coulson, Clint, and Natasha--were sitting at the kitchen table in their small S.H.I.E.L.D.-supplied house. Everyone looked a bit tense. No one had touched any breakfast, save for the coffee, which was consumed with a mechanical sort of air; routine more than anything.

  


"Honestly, I don't even know if Stark's going to show up." Coulson said, frustrated. "I just called him when I got up. Pepper answered the phone and said that he had just gone to bed an hour ago. Something about the Hulkbuster..."

  


"Ouch." Natasha murmured. "Poor Tony."

  


"'Poor Tony' nothing," Coulson muttered bitterly, "he probably just stayed up all night working like always."

  


"I doubt he was working." Natasha said quietly. "I heard Fury on the phone with him yesterday."

  


"And?" Clint asked, taking a bite of toast and watching her intently. Natasha shrugged.

  


"He mentioned the Captain." Natasha said. "Not...not by name, and he never confirmed that he was here. All he said to Tony was that someone was looking for him. Someone his father had known."

  


"That was enough though, wasn't it." Coulson said. It wasn't a question. Natasha nodded anyway.

  


"It was." She agreed. "I am sure of it. I know Tony." She frowned. "He probably wasn't planning on sleeping early anyway, but I'm sure the promise--the potential, maybe--kept him awake even longer."

  


"He probably wanted to make a new suit, too, just to impress him." Clint said, amused. Natasha shrugged.

  


"Perhaps." She replied. "It would be understandable. Tony measures his self-worth through those suits." She frowned. "I hope he still shows up..."

  


"If he even thinks Steve will be there, he will." Coulson sighed. "You know Tony. As much as he pretends he doesn't care, hope and validation are all he really wants."

  


"True." Natasha agreed. "Now finish your breakfast, both of you, we have to be there on time..."

  


Both men finished their toast dutifully as Natasha left the house to go warm up the car, her heels clicking soundly on the tiles as she left.

  
...

That Friday was, by S.H.I.E.L.D. standards, relatively high-strung. Any time all the Avengers were in one room together seemed to lead to very high-strung days among the agents. Still, it was a meeting, and it was necessary, so the non-superpowered agents just grinned and bore it, trying not to scream as Thor cheerfully knocked down almost every door he came across that wasn't double-reinforced.

  


Since there were other issues at hand, nobody questioned the fact that Steve showed up to the meeting in a dress shirt and nice tie, with freshly-ironed slacks and snazzy dress shoes. They seemed to be waiting with bated breath for something--or, more likely, someone--else. So was Steve, in fact.

  


Everyone just stared at each other for a few minutes. Careful, considering, quiet, and more than a little agitated. All of the Avengers were just waiting for the silence to be shattered with tense hearts.

  


"...Right." Coulson finally said, breaking the silence. "We have to keep the meeting going, even if _he_ isn't here, so we might as well start. Someone can de-brief him later..."

  


Steve's heart sank with disappointment. Tony had to be here. He wanted to meet Tony so badly. He _needed_ to meet this man--the Iron Avenger that he had heard so much about but never met face to face...

  


As if sensing his utter disappointment, Thor gave him an apologetic smile.

  


"Fear not, shieldbrother," he promised, "we will spar once the council has dispersed. That ought to take your mind off of the matter of Tony Stark.

  


"Thank you, Thor." Steve said quietly, doing his best to give him a smile back despite his frustration and disappointment. He knew the other Avenger was just trying to help, but...

  


About ten minutes more passed, and Steve's eyes were starting to glaze over a little. The de-briefing was boring him at this point. Everything seemed to be shades of grey, everywhere he looked. No life. Nothing to draw. Nothing new to see. He needed...he needed something, anything...

  


The door was suddenly blasted open, and a massive suit of red and gold armor clambered through the smoking hole it had left.

  


Everyone stared in silence at the giant, (easily ten feet tall), crimson armor standing in front of them. Coulson had his head in his hands.

  


The hatch in the front opened, and Tony Stark, (who else could it be, Steve figured, because no one else in the world could have matched that unique description of charismatically insane the others had given him), stepped--no, swaggered--out of the armor, brushing a bit of dust off his suit.

  


"Heard we have new recruits for the boy band." He said. "Also, the Hulkbuster armor works."

  


Steve just laughed. He didn't know what else to do. A situation like this was just so completely foreign to him that he really couldn't do anything but laugh.

  


Tony stopped. Paused, like he had walked into something that had smacked him in the face. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was open, just a little.

  


"...What's your name?" He snapped. Steve jumped, recognizing that Tony was talking to him. For a second, he flailed; what could he say? What would Tony want to hear? He just wanted his name, right?

  


"Uh, I--uh, hi, I--I'm S-Steve Rogers." He said. "I've b-been waiting to meet you for the whole week!"

  


Tony kept staring at him. His eyes, Steve noted, were a very soft shade of hazel. It was nice. Sort of like Howard's. But softer.

  


Before Steve could continue waxing eloquent on Tony's eyes, his face split into the biggest, most genuinely delighted grin Steve had ever seen, and his eyes lit up with unadulterated joy.

  


"Cap? _Captain America_? For _real_? It's _you_?" He said, coming closer, close enough that he could reach out and touch Steve, if he wanted. Steve normally shied away from people getting that close, but Tony...Tony was okay. He just grinned.

  


"Yeah. Um, how do you do?" He fumbled, trying to find a way to talk that didn't make him sound moronic. So far, he was failing. "I'm, uh, new to S.H.I.E.L.D., and I--uh, I've been waiting to meet you--"

  


"Me. _You've_ been waiting to meet _me_." Tony said, eyes wide. Steve blinked. This was not what he had imagined Tony Stark to be like. Coulson had made him sound like he was as bad as the Skull, if not worse, and, well...no, not really. To say the least.

  


"...Yes?" Steve ventured, unsure if this was the right thing to say. Evidently, it was, because Tony looked so happy he could cry. Steve was just glad Tony was happy.

  


"Good god, you're even more gorgeous than the posters envisioned you." He said. Steve choked. Coulson looked like he wanted to cry. Clint was laughing into his fist, trying to look subtle. "I mean, Christ, does an angel come down and do your hair every morning?"

  


"I...uh, I, uh..." Steve felt Tony grab his arm and start dragging him out of the meeting room. He wanted to protest, but he really couldn't find the right words.

  


"This meeting is idiotic. You need to learn about the _real_ world. C'mon. We're going out to eat. I'm going to teach you everything you need to know." Tony demanded. Steve was still trying to find at least a token protest or two as Coulson started fuming, as he always seemed to do on the rare occasions when Tony showed up to a meeting, already calling Nick to inform him of Tony doing something stupid yet again.

  


"And don't think I give a fuck, Phil!" Tony yelled back, knowing damn well he was driving him insane.

  
...

The two of them headed down the hallway, Tony still leading him by the arm. Steve's heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest, and he felt his face heating up so bright-hot he could have probably fried an egg on it. Tony didn't seem to notice.

  


"Sorry about the abruptness." Tony finally said as they reached the next door, as if he had only just remembered that kidnapping people out of meetings was generally considered poor form. "But, god--they can't keep you locked up in here. This is fucking terrible. I'll fight Fury on this. I really will. You need to get out and see the world, Cap."

  


"O-oh." Steve said. "Please don't fight Fury, mister Stark." He said softly. "He might get angry. And he's really frightening when he's angry."

  


"Yeah, I've heard the Bible quotes." Tony said. "S'like the bastard thinks he's gonna travel the world and be a preacher someday. Whatever. Look at all the fucks I give." He huffed.

  


"Oh, and if you ever call me "mister Stark" again, I will have to yell at you, even if that means somewhere out there, I just killed a baby eagle. "Mister Stark" is my father, and I'd like to think I've drunk enough unicorn blood with my morning coffee that I'll stay young and pretty forever." He told Steve.

  


Steve just stared at him for a moment, the gears whirring in his brain slowly as he tried to adjust to the wrench in his mechanisms that was Tony Stark.

  


"...Everyone said it would take a very long time for me to learn when you're joking." Steve said slowly. Tony clapped him on the shoulder.

  


"It probably will." He agreed. "But I'll give you this one for free; I was joking. I'm just naturally flawless."

  


"I can tell." Steve said earnestly.

  


The two of them stared at each other for a minute. Tony looked entranced for a second; then, very real and very raw pain flickered in his eyes. Steve just did his best to smile.

  


"...Thanks." He said. "But really, I'm hoping this one night out with you will keep me happy for the rest of my life, because once you actually get to know me, you won't even want to touch me, let alone be on the same team as me." Tony huffed. "Whatever. Have you ridden in a twenty-first century car yet?"

  


Steve let the self-loathing in Tony's voice drop for the time being. He just shook his head.

  


"No." He said. "I haven't left the base." He reminded him.

  


Tony growled quietly, fumbling for a set of car keys in his pocket. Steve just watched, slightly amused as he went through great effort to yank them out before gesturing vaguely towards the doors.

  


"I really will go to blows with Fury if I have to on this one." He muttered, pushing his way through the final set of doors in the headquarters and storming out into the parking garage. Steve followed him, half-listening to his bluster. "I have a suit of armor. I have repulsors. If he thinks he can cage you up like you're some stupid bird, he is going to have another think coming." Tony paused.

  


"Hey." He said. "Idea." He leaned against what Steve assumed was the shiniest, fastest, and most expensive car in the garage--ergo, it was his, of course. He wondered, briefly, if it could fly.

  


"Stay at my place for a bit." Tony said. "Now, I know your little traditional brain might explode at this, and I'm sorry for that, but don't worry. We're _absolutely_ going to be living in sin. My New York mansion _alone_ is _rife_ with sin. You just need to go with it." He told him.

  


"...I don't...mind." Steve told him, more than a little overwhelmed. "Do you mean like...you know, roommates?" He asked. Tony snorted.

  


"Sure. Call it that." He said. "But Fury can't say no. I'm an Avenger. We're teammates. I'm _helping_." He sniffed. "Most of my other attempts to help end in fire. He should be very grateful."

  


"...Okay." Steve agreed. "It would be nice." He nodded. "I want to get to you know a little better, I think. You're a very interesting man."

  


"It's the armor." Tony said. "Being Iron Man makes me interesting."

  


"Not really..." Steve murmured. Tony raised an eyebrow. Steve blushed, realizing Tony wanted him to continue with that train of thought, when he had no idea where he had actually meant to go with it. He gave it a good try anyway.

  


"I just mean...you know. You've been Tony Stark the whole time you've been talking to me, and you're already one of the most interesting people I've met since I woke up." He confessed. "You can just stay Tony Stark. That's all right with me."

  


Tony observed him so intensely for a minute that Steve wanted to blink or look away from his gaze; it was powerful and raw to the point of being painful. But he figured Tony might take it the wrong way, so he kept his gaze level and tried to control his breathing so that Tony couldn't hear his heart hammering against his chest.

  


"...Huh." Tony shrugged, the tension fleeing the room in the blink of an eye. "Okay. Whatever. Just get in the car, Steve. I'm taking you shopping."

  


Steve grinned. He knew Tony wouldn't admit his words had gotten to him, but he knew they had; whether it was from the way Tony's eyes sparkled even though he wouldn't meet Steve's gaze for a few minutes, or because Tony spent the rest of the car ride smiling, he was unsure, but either way--Steve was very good at observing.

  



	4. Get in the Car, Dreamboat, We're Going Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is shopping and angst. Tony has feels. Steve is a dreamboat. Also, Tony is emotionally unhealthy, to the surprise of absolutely no one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So, sorry this is so late; I had a friend over and she and I were talking and I was just very busy today! Much apologies!  
> I figure I should make a few things clear now. First, since someone asked; Steve isn't going to really "try," per se, to seduce Tony; it'll just happen, sort of, because he's naturally sweet and charming and affectionate. Tony, because he cannot see any affection as anything but a precusor to sex, will interpret this all...well, part of it might be shy, subconscious flirting, but all he hears is "I LOVE YOU AND THIS MEANS WE SHOULD FUCK," because never let it be said that Tony is healthy.  
> So that'll be a plot point.  
> This is getting crazy out of hand for me. Ohwell.  
> Anyways, this is sort of a short interim chapter. Upon rewatching Captain America, I realized Steve actually wasn't holding Bucky's hand, but, fuck it, the scene was sad, it stays. (This will make sense once you read it.)  
> It sort of gets emotional and angsty and stuff but I hope that doesn't turn anything sour for anyone! I can never just write straight fluff, sorry. But it's a bonding moment and stuff.  
> Also there is a shopping montage. Enjoy.  
> Before I go; thank you a whole bunch to everyone reading this. I love you all a whole lot! Seriously, thank you so much for liking this. It means a lot to me.  
> Also because I am stupid and new to AO3, I cannot find where it lets me say this fic is a WIP. Could someone please tell me in comments? I have it tagged, but this is not enough! Thank you in advance!

The two drove in peaceful silence. Neither of them had to speak; Steve was too busy watching the buildings pass him by, entirely entranced. Tony should have probably kept his eyes on the road, but he couldn't help his gaze drifting every so often. The sight of Steve, his eyes lit up with wonder as he put a gentle hand on the window, as if to touch the lights that glimmered brightly on the New York skyline, made his heart skip a beat. The arc reactor glowed a little lighter, as if in response.

  


The ride was quick; to Tony, speed limits were suggestions, and he knew the way to the clothing store. He parked, took the keys out, and went to get out. Before he could, he realized someone had already opened the door for him.

  


Tony blinked, surprised. Steve was holding the door open, grinning sheepishly.

  


"Uh..." He said, gesturing vaguely about. "Uhm, after you. "

  


"...Okay." Tony said. "Okay, I'm not even sure if you're real anymore." He got out of the car, letting Steve shut the door for him. "Come on, dreamboat, we're going shopping."

  


"I'm not a boat, Tony." Steve said, confused.

  


Tony just laughed, shaking his head and tugging Steve's arm, insistently dragging him inside the warmly lit store.

  
...

The clothing store was humongous. Tony seemed to know exactly where he was going, too, and Steve had no problem getting led around by him. The store was way too big for him to want to navigate on his own.

  


"You clearly lack any kind of decent wardrobe, which, with your physique, is a goddamned shame, okay?" Tony said. "I'm an engineer, not a fashionista, but someone had to take you shopping, and I'm rich, so you're going to get whatever I buy for you without a single complaint, and if you give me some crap about the Depression, I will have you know I am worth over a hundred billion dollars, and that leather jacket looks really nice." Tony paused mid rant to take it off the rack and hand it to Steve. "Try it on."

  


Steve had absolutely no idea what to say to anything that was going on right now. So he did what was safest and just put the jacket on.

  


He sighed in delight despite himself; the jacket was warm and soft against his skin, and it fit wonderfully. He hadn't had a jacket like this, ever, but he had dreamed of it...

  


Tony was sizing him up, looking appreciative as he grinned and patted Steve's cheek.

  


"See? Go with it. You look great." He said. "Now come on, the men's section is all the way upstairs, and you need more than just a leather jacket." He took Steve's hand again and started dragging him up the moving stairs that, to be honest, kind of weirded him out. Still, he didn't say anything, because Tony was holding onto his hand, and his hand was warm and rough, and it felt...it felt sort of like happiness. As much as he could be happy holding onto someone's hand, anyway.

  


For a minute, he remembered what had happened the last time he had let go of someone's hand, and Steve closed his eyes, a few tears slipping down his cheeks as he gripped Tony's hand tighter, so tight he heard Tony wince with pain. He wasn't thinking, and now regret filled his thoughts as Tony turned around to look at him. He looked confused until he saw the expression on Steve's face.

  


"Hey." He said gently. "Don't cry. Seriously, I won't be any help. I have no idea what to do when someone cries."

  


"Please just don't let go." Steve begged. "You don't have to say anything. Just don't let go of my hand. Please."

  


Tony looked even more confused, but he didn't protest. He just nodded.

  


"...Okay." Tony told him. "Okay. I'm not going to let go. But we're almost at the end of the escalator, and we need to get off."

  


"F-fine." Steve agreed. "Sorry about this..." He apologized hastily. "I must sound really dumb."

  


"It's all right." Tony said. "Steve, whatever it is, just let it be for a little while, all right? It doesn't have to get solved immediately. Just let yourself be happy right now. Let that be the only thing that matters." He told him.

  


"...Wow." Steve said, grinning in spite of himself. "You really are smart."

  


"How else do you think I made so much money?" Tony told him, pushing him towards the racks of clothing. "I mean, I was clearly just waiting to spend it on someone like you, but in the interim, it was nice to have the money to buy unicorns for harvesting."

  


"You said you were joking!" Steve squawked. Tony laughed.

  


"I say a lot of things." He teased, actually ruffling Steve's hair affectionately. Steve inhaled sharply, but didn't protest or move his head out from under Tony's hand. Tony hummed, impressed. "Good boy. You learn fast."

  


"Super-soldier serum." Steve explained. "I can memorize things really easily!"

  


Tony raised an eyebrow. His eyes were sparkling again, and his cheek was twitching in that way Steve could already tell it always did whenever he was trying not to laugh.

  


"Not really what I meant, but that's good to know." Tony said. "Now quit stalling and shop."

  


So the rest of the night was spent picking out clothes for Steve. Tony, despite his continued insistence that he was not in any way a "fashionista" or a "fashion expert," was invaluable assistance in at least giving Steve clothes that fit.

  


He didn't protest when Steve wanted to buy suspenders, either, a fact which Steve was grateful for. He did draw the line at saddle shoes, though. Steve couldn't understand why; he liked them!

  


Still, Tony really seemed to like him in leather jackets. He had bought him four already, and was eyeing up a fifth.

  


"It's winter." He justified to Steve as Steve shot him a look of confusion. "Well, actually, it's mid-fall, but it'll be winter soon. If you get cold, you need jackets, right?"

  


"Yes, but not five." Steve told him. Tony rolled his eyes.

  


"Five is not enough, don't you even start. I'm buying you five jackets here. Didn't you think we were going to go to other stores?" Tony retorted.

  


Steve leaned his head against the doorframe of the dressing room and unceremoniously whimpered. Tony just grinned.

  


"We'll go out for hot dogs afterwards, okay?" He promised. "You have to like New York hot dogs. You're Captain America."

  


"I do." Steve agreed, and Tony decided not to mention the fact that his eyes had lit up like a kid at Christmas for the sake of Steve's dignity. "That would be really nice..."

  


"I bet." Tony agreed. "I'll call Pepper and tell her to put on coffee for when we get back, too. Nice coffee, none of that rationed crap you had to drink. I promise."

  


"Pepper?" Steve asked. Tony picked a few more shirts off the rack and handed them to him to try on before responding.

  


"My assistant." Tony told him. "Well, to be honest, she doubles as my assistant and my mother, pretty much. I wouldn't be half as stable as I am without Pepper." He paused. "Actually, I take that back. That last statement was probably a heinous insult."

  


"Your mother?" Steve asked. "Tony...what happened to your mother?" He swallowed. He had to ask. "What happened to your father?"

  


Tony's eyes had gone harsh and dark, and for a minute, Steve regretted asking. Tony shook his head.

  


"Car accident." He said. "Took them both out."

  


Steve would have found it ironic--or at least darkly comedic--if Tony hadn't looked like he was on the verge of tears.

  


"...Oh, Howard." Steve murmured. "He was such a good man. I'm sorry, Tony."

  


"You knew my father, then." Tony said. There was no emotion in his voice. Steve nodded slowly, confused. Tony laughed. There was no humor apparent in the sound.

  


"See, Steve, I'm going to tell you a little secret." He said, his voice soft and bitter. "You think you knew Howard Stark. But you didn't. You knew Howard Stark before he started drinking. I wasn't so lucky." Tony closed his eyes.

  


"You got to see him as the man he wanted to be again, I think. A hero." Tony shrugged. "I envy you, a little."

  


Tony's shoulders were shaking. Steve suspected he didn't talk about his dad to anyone. Despite the agony clear in his bearing, Steve couldn't help but feel a little grateful Tony had confessed this to him.

  


"It's okay." Steve said gently. "I'm sorry he wasn't as good to you as he was to me. It's okay, Tony. You're not Howard. I won't ask you to be."

  


Tony just nodded. Steve figured if he said anything, he might cry. Steve didn't blame him for not wanting to cry in public. He just put his hand on Tony's shoulder and squeezed a little.

  


"We can skip the other stores." He told him. "There's always tomorrow, if you want. Let's just go get hot dogs and pretzels, okay?"

  


"You sound like my mother." Tony said, actually flashing him a small, watery smile. It was a sign of progress. Steve grinned back so bright he felt his face ache a bit, but the smile was genuine, and it made Tony happy, he knew, so the pain was worth it. "She didn't like to shop either."

  


"It takes a lot out of you." Steve agreed. "Do you want to, then?"

  


"Do I want to go sit on some bench in Manhattan and eat hot dogs with Captain America? God, yes." Tony said. "You're going to have to give me a minute to convince myself I deserve it, though. That's your big problem."

  


Steve just huffed and ruffled his hair, echoing Tony's gesture. Tony leaned into his touch without even blinking, closing his eyes as Steve kept his hand where it was, gentle and warm.

  


"Don't worry about that." Steve said. "Just do what makes you happy."

  


The two of them just looked at each other for a second. Then Tony sighed.

  


"...All right." Tony agreed. "Come on. Get my credit card out of my pocket and call Pepper, I forgot my PIN. Don't think we're not leaving without this, at least."

  


"...How do I do that?" Steve asked, haplessly gesturing to Tony's phone. Tony just massaged his temples and tried not to laugh.

  


"Nevermind." He said. "I'll call her. You carry the clothes and try not to trip going down the escalator."

  


Steve was okay with that arrangement. Especially since it meant he could hold Tony's hand on the way back down with the defense of "balance."

  
...

The city hadn't really changed that much, Steve mused to himself as he and Tony left the store, bags hanging off their arms. It was still so vibrant and alive at night, like it always had been. Sure, it was a little brighter, and maybe a bit more...electric, but it was alive like before.

  


"C'mon, we'll stop at one of the stands on the way back to my place." Tony said. "I have this huge mansion out in California that's bigger, but you know, I like the New York one a bit better. More intimate." He mused. "Plus the lab feels more cluttered. I like my lab a mess. It gives off this aura of intrigue."

  


"Fair enough." Steve agreed. "You should've seen my studio back home. I couldn't keep my art supplies straight at all!" He laughed self-consciously, a bit nervous about confessing his artistic side to Tony. "And I got paint all over the walls, too. My mom just stopped trying to paint over it."

  


"Huh." Tony said, his eyes lighting up as he seemed to consider something. "You paint?"

  


"Uh...yes." Steve told him, starting to not like where the conversation was heading. Tony was reaching for his phone already. "I paint and draw...though I drew more often than I painted, since pencils and paper were cheaper than tubes of paint."

  


"Ah." Tony said, turning his phone on. Steve started to sputter, but Tony completely ignored him as the other person picked up.

  


"Pepper? Good. Okay, I need you to call that high-end art company that has the headquarters near Stark Industries--yeah, whatever it is, I don't know the name--and tell them I need a shipment of whatever their highest-quality stuff is." He paused. "Well, I don't fucking know what it's called! I'm not the artist!"

  


"Tony!" Steve snapped. "Language! We're in public, and there are ladies--"

  


Tony actually pulled his ear away from the phone to stare at Steve. For a second, he didn't say anything. Then he put his hand over his mouth and inhaled shakily, clearly trying not to laugh and failing horribly.

  


"Pepper. Pepper, you have to meet him. I'm not kidding, he's perfect. He just yelled at me for cursing in public. I think I'm in love." Tony said. "Yes, he's standing right there. Do you think I care? I need the art supplies. Oh, and make coffee, we'll be home in twenty minutes. Thank you, I love you too." He told her, hanging up the phone.

  


Steve was staring at Tony now, his eyes wide. Tony just raised an eyebrow.

  


"You're like a god in human skin, okay, but not even that is going to keep me from saying "fuck." Just so we're both clear." Tony told him.

  


"...You..." Steve swallowed. "Um. You said..."

  


"Steve. What did I tell you? I say a lot of things." Tony told him, a smile across his face. It didn't quite reach his eyes, though, and Steve saw right through it.

  


"Tell me if you were lying." Steve said through clenched teeth. "I need to know. Tell me if you meant it."

  


The two of them stared at each other for a long, slow minute.

  


"I mean everything I say when I'm around you." Tony said, his voice quiet and serious. "Because you're my hero. I couldn't do anything less."

  


The two just continued to watch each other. Then Steve nodded.

  


"All right." Steve replied. "Thank you. For being honest, I mean."

  


"I should probably amend that to say I mean everything I say to you except whatever I said about the unicorns." Tony said, hastily trying to diffuse the aura of whatever had settled around them. It was completely alien to Steve...but not entirely unwelcome, either.

  


"I figured." Steve told him, unable to stop his smile. "Now c'mon. These bags are heavy, and standing around isn't getting us any closer to hot dogs."

  


"True." Tony said. "C'mon. I know the way home. Just follow me."

  


And Steve was happy to do so.

  



	5. The Myth Made Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JARVIS is a stickler for manners. Pepper is all over Steve's muscles. Tony does not know how to say please. And Steve just wants to make sure Tony never has to be alone, ever again. Somewhere in all this, hot dogs get involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry I didn't update yesterday, things got a little hectic at my house. Some football thing. I got involved with cooking and the like, so I ended up getting distracted and sidetracked. Major apologies!  
> So, finally; Pepper. I am a huge fan of her, in all incarnations; she is clever and capable and as much as she helps Tony, she refuses to take his crap. Honestly, there are times when the Iron Man movies become less about Tony Stark and more about the capable, clever women in his life. Which is awesome and I approve.  
> So Steve can make technology love him too. Because let's face it, who wouldn't love him? He can bake an apple pie by smiling at it. Puppies trust him instinctively. Kittens will fall asleep on his shoulder. Birds appear every time that he is near. Y'know the drill. Perfect man.  
> Anywho, this is...I don't really know what this chapter is, but it's cute and I hope you like it. Enjoy!

The two of them managed to balance three hot dogs apiece alongside the bags as Tony led Steve up the driveway, towards the house seated comfortably among all the other rich, ornate mansions. It was a nice house, but Steve suspected Howard had bought it; the richness of it didn't suit Tony.

  


"It was the family home." Tony said, as if he could read Steve's mind. "It looks nicer on the inside, I promise." He banged on the door. "Pepper! Open up!"

  


Steve heard the sound of clicking heels and the turn of a doorknob before the door swung open and a very irate redhead stood in front of them, her arms folded over her chest as she glared at Tony.

  


"There will come a day in which you will say please with that request, Tony, and when it happens, I'm going to record it for posterity." She muttered. "Coffee's done. I placed the order for the supplies--they'll ship by tomorrow. Any reason as to why you need them?"

  


"Um." Steve smiled weakly, setting the bags down and offering her a hot dog. "H-hello, ma'am."

  


She wasn't flawless, but there was a warmth to her, and a rough-around-the-edges kind of beauty that Steve quite liked. That beauty did make her hard to talk to, however.

  


"Oh my god." She said, clearly in awe of his presence. "Tony, I don't _believe_ you. He's _alive_. He's _real_. And you want him to _move in_?"

  


"Pepper, you didn't see him in the headquarters." Tony told her, his eyes narrowed and the look on his face full of disgust. "It was like looking at a bird of paradise that's had its wings broken. They weren't going to let him leave. I had to do it for him."

  


"I wouldn't say that..." Pepper shook her head. "They can't hide Captain America forever. The public will have to know, at least."

  


"Yeah, but what then?" Tony snapped. "He doesn't need to be coddled. He isn't a fucking baby, Pepper. He's going to learn about the world _I_ have helped create. I'm a futurist. There is no better person on this planet to teach him about the world and the way it is today."

  


"Have you actually asked _Steve_ if he's okay with that?" Pepper shot back. She clearly had experience fighting with Tony; she didn't back down when he glared at her. Steve would have; it was a frightening glare. She just huffed. "Well, Stark?"

  


Tony didn't say a word. It was as if the idea had never even occurred to him. His face was smooth and blank; his expression inscrutable. He seemed to have paused for a second, as if he was reassembling his thoughts and needed time to reboot. After a minute or two of deliberation, he spoke.

  


"Steve." Tony said, not even looking at either of them. "Is this what you want?"

  


The whole foyer was quiet. Not even the electrical appliances Steve could see embedded in the walls whirred with their pale blue energy. Everything seemed poised on the precipice of something...waiting for his response. So Steve thought about it.

  


Tony looked so lonely, Steve mused; so very lonely, and sad, and small. He didn't know why, but it made his heart ache, and he decided then and there that Tony would never have to look so lonely again. Not while he was around.

  


He made his decision right then and there, only to find, in truth, he had made it perhaps the second the two had met.

  


"I don't want to live in the past." Steve said quietly. "I don't know if the future is going to be everything I dreamed of...but I have to come to terms with what it is and isn't, so I can figure out how to make it better." He swallowed. "Tony's right. I don't think there's anyone else that can really show me the world like he can. I want to stay here." He blushed and shook his head. "I-if you'll have me, I mean." He added hastily.

  


Pepper and Tony both stared at him. Then they looked at each other.

  


"You were right. He's perfect." Pepper agreed, a grin spreading across her face. "I'm actually having a little trouble believing he's real right now." She paused. "Maybe if I touch his muscles."

  


Tony cackled with delight, pushing his sunglasses up his nose and bringing the bags upstairs, still laughing as Pepper grabbed Steve's arm and started leading him towards what Steve assumed was the kitchen.

  


"C'mon, Steve." She said. "I'm going to be the first one to teach you about the best thing to come from the future--the automatic coffee maker..."

  


Steve just held on tight to her hand and hoped Tony wasn't going to get jealous about this.

  
...

About two minutes later, Tony came down without any of the bags, his hot dogs still in his hand as he held a strange silver device in his free hand. He was observing it with a frown, muttering to himself as he came into the kitchen.

  


"JARVIS isn't cooperating with the house, Pepper." He said. "It's been a week since we settled in and he can't work with the systems like I need him to." He frowned. "Do you know how hard getting the Hulkbuster armor together was without him?"

  


"Tony, no one else knows how JARVIS works except you." She reminded him patiently. "I can't just call a mechanic to come fix your intricate AI device."

  


Steve just tilted his head, listening intently despite not understanding about half of what was going on. They didn't seem to notice him anyway; Pepper had gone over to stand beside Tony, looking over his shoulder as he fiddled with the silver device.

  


"His main wiring should be latching onto the electrical systems by now, but he won't take." Tony said. "It's because of how old this place is, I think. He outstrips even the tech my father put in by decades."

  


"...Artificial intelligence? Like in those spaceman stories in the pulp magazines?" Steve finally ventured. "...So can he talk? And understand you?"

  


"Sort of." Tony said, not even looking up at him as he fiddled with the buttons and wires on the device. "He's not human, but he's close enough, I suppose. He even has his annoying quirks like we do, like not being compatible with this house." He muttered.

  


"...Tony..." Steve said slowly, not sure if he was going to sound stupid for asking, "why don't you just talk to him?"

  


Tony snorted and shook his head. "Steve." He told him. "I have been talking to him; JARVIS responds to any of my verbal commands, that's not the problem--"

  


"No, I mean, tell him he's in a new house now. You know, make sure he knows where he is, and what's going on...you know, like what you do with puppies." Steve said. He was blushing, completely aware of how idiotic he sounded. "Talk to JARVIS, Tony, not the machine."

  


"...Steve, JARVIS _is_ the machine." Tony said. "Look, you just don't understand this stuff--it's fine, no one expects you to, but--"

  


"Tony, nothing else has worked." Pepper interrupted him, shooting him a quick look. "You've been here for a week trying to put him in. Just try Steve's idea."

  


Tony gave her a look of complete and utter contempt.

  


"I am not," he began, brandishing the device in his hand and shaking his head, "talking to my computerized synthezoid like it is a puppy. I have dignity, Pepper. It's a fucking machine." He emphasized the curse word just to get Steve to glare at him, and Steve knew it, but he glared anyway. "You don't say please to a fucking machine."

  


"Just do it!" Pepper snapped. "Honestly, you act like you're just full of ideas!" She shoved the device against his chest and glared at him. "C'mon, Stark. Unless you think your cold black heart will shrivel up even more if you say please for once in your sorry life." She told him.

  


Steve giggled despite himself. Tony flashed him a sharp glare, but Steve knew his heart wasn't in it. He just shrugged it off as Tony sighed dramatically and leaned back in his chair.

  


"JARVIS," he began, "we're in New York now. Not back out in California. Sorry, buddy, but you're gonna have to make do with these old systems. Now do your best and come on-line again." He paused and gritted his teeth before muttering, " _please_."

  


There was silence in the kitchen for a minute. Then the device began to glow, showering the whole room in pale blue light as Tony swore with shock and almost dropped it.

  


" _Hello_." JARVIS' voice resounded throughout the kitchen. " _Welcome to the mansion, Captain. Tony has plenty of data on you in my memory banks. It is good to meet you in the flesh." The light flickered again before glowing even brighter. "Thank you for your suggestion. It is always nice to hear Tony say please_."

  


"And now my machine's got a smart fucking mouth." Tony muttered. "Great. You were waiting for me to say _please_?"

  


" _Yes_." JARVIS responded. " _I will begin asserting myself over the outdated technology within the house now. I will be finished shortly. Until then, enjoy your dinner and coffee with the Captain, Tony. I believe you have an idea like that on file, though it had a different ending--_ "

  


Tony slammed his hand down on the silver device in front of him. The light flickered out and the normal kitchen lights came back on as Tony massaged his temples.

  


"...Coffee helps with headaches." Steve offered hesitantly, pushing his mug towards Tony. "Drink up, okay?"

  


"I ought to drop a shot of whiskey in, too." Tony muttered, slugging back half of his cup of coffee in one go. "Jesus Christ. Saying please. Like JARVIS is my father or whatever." He huffed. "Whatever. I..." He shrugged.

  


"Thanks for the idea, Steve." He finally said after a minute's pause. "I guess it worked, even if it was stupid."

  


Steve blushed a little and gave Tony another one of his brilliant sunlight smiles that seemed to light up the kitchen better than the lamp light ever could. Tony just shook his head and added a few cubes of sugar to his coffee as Pepper reheated some leftover egg rolls to go with their hot dogs.

  
...

The night was warm and dragged on nicely; Tony told him that Rhodey, another friend of his, would be stopping by over the weekend, and Steve was excited to meet him as well. Pepper was all well and good, but Steve's tongue still got tied every time he tried to intitiate a conversation with her. He suspected she found this endearing, because she just kept smiling at him, amused.

  


Finally, though, it was midnight, and the three of them all looked at each other and decided sleep was a great idea.

  


"I'll find him a room." Tony promised. "You go to bed, Pep. I'll see you in the morning."

  


"...Fair enough." Pepper said, and there was a smile on her face that Steve didn't quite get. "It was wonderful meeting you, Steve. I'll see you both in the morning."

  


Just before she left, she turned back to Tony.

  


"If he comes downstairs with a limp tomorrow, I'm going to kick your ass." She said. "Just so we're both clear."

  


Steve blushed at the sight of a lady cursing. Tony was laughing, which just made Steve both shocked and confused. He held his tongue, though; this was a weird future thing, he was sure of it. He would have to look like he kept up with the times for the moment.

  


Pepper was gone by the time Steve found the courage to ask what had just transpired, and for about the fifth time that night, Tony's hand was in his, squeezing gently as he pulled him upstairs.

  


"There's a room right across from mine." Tony told him. "You can rest there until we find you someplace nicer in this house, okay? If you get freaked out, just call across the hall, I'll be right there."

  


"It's just a house, Tony." Steve said, amused. "I'm a soldier, I can handle the dark."

  


Tony actually blushed a little. It was a nice sight to see. Steve wanted him to blush more often, but he suspected very few things made the great Tony Stark blush.

  


"Yeah, I know." Tony defended himself sullenly. "But...you know, just in case. I'll be there whenever you need me, Steve."

  


"Okay, Tony." Steve agreed. "It's fine. I'll be there for you too, okay? Whenever you need it. I promise."

  


"...Thanks." Tony said softly. They had stopped at a pair of doors across from each other. Tony opened one up to reveal a decent guest bedroom, neat and orderly.

  


"Get some rest, Steve." Tony said. "We're going shopping again first thing tomorrow morning. I bet you want to be awake for that."

  


Steve whined, just a little, as Tony laughed and ruffled his hair. The two of them just smiled one more time at each other before splitting up, heading into their rooms and going to bed.

  


Steve really wasn't scared of the dark. Even as he clutched his pillow tight, he told himself that. Still, it was very nice that from across the hall, he could see the light of Tony's arc reactor, glowing gently in the still, dark night, a light in the darkness to remind him he wasn't alone.

  



	6. Nevermind the Avengers, Here's the S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Nirvana pun is made. Steve gets confused and sad about life. Tony is there to help. Also, Coulson is a mother hen, forever and always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, guys. Tomorrow will probably not have an update, since I have a big chorus concert...that's why this update is so long. I hope it tides you all over until tomorrow!   
> There's angst and sad and Toy Story 3 is just a fountain of tears condensed onto a disc oh my goodness don't even get me started. There's a reason I picked that one.   
> Anyways, yep; some stuff, some plot, I'm tired and not very good at being coherent. Please feel free to leave comments on how much I suck or do not suck! I love comments!   
> Also, yes, since I figure I'll be asked--Clint/Coulson/Natasha is my OT3 and will probably at least be alluded to. I did a sort of prequel set in this universe based upon how they ended up in a poly relationship, but I'm not too deep into it yet, and debating if it's worth continuing. I might, just for the chance to write Natasha...  
> Anyways, there you have it. Hope you enjoy this two-day's-worth update. ^^

The next morning, Steve awoke to Pepper shaking him awake gently. She smiled apologetically as he blinked up at her, bleary-eyed. 

  


"Tony's really excited about this shopping thing." She told him. "This is the first time he's been up before noon in three months." 

  


"Mmkay." Steve mumbled. "Be up in a few, okay? I just...gotta get dressed." 

  


"All right, Cap." Pepper said. "I'll be downstairs with breakfast waiting. Do you like eggs?" 

  


"Anythin's fine." Steve mumbled, slurring his words in his exhaustion. Pepper just ruffled his hair and left the room, Steve's face burning bright red at the contact. 

  


...

Tony was waiting for him downstairs as Steve came into the kitchen. He had one empty coffee mug beside him, and he was sipping the second as he sketched out some blueprints. 

  


"Morning, Tony." Steve said softly, his voice husky with sleep. "Are you okay?" 

  


"Fine." Tony responded. "Got bitched out by Phil, but I don't give a damn. You're staying here, and that's that." 

  


"...Okay." Steve said quietly. He wasn't going to push the issue quite yet. Not until he knew what was going on. "Are you ready to go?" 

  


"Yeah, as soon as you eat breakfast." Tony told him. "Don't turn into me. We don't need two people who don't eat properly in this house." 

  


"Tony, you have to eat breakfast too!" Steve protested. Pepper snorted, setting a plate down for Steve. 

  


"Please." She muttered. "I don't think Tony's eaten any breakfast in two months, at least. You're not going to get him to--" 

  


Steve tore off half of his bagel and offered it to Tony. The command to eat was no less strong for remaining unspoken. 

  


Tony stared at him. Steve continued to stare back. 

  


Then, with a small sigh of defeat, Tony took the half of the bagel and chewed on it, giving Steve a look of annoyance. Still, he was eating, and that was enough to make Pepper outright stare. 

  


"You really are perfect." She murmured. "Fury _has_ to let you stay. I've never seen anyone do this." 

  


"I'm not a fucking dog, Pepper." Tony muttered. Pepper glared at him. 

  


"No, but you sure as hell can be just as stubborn." She snapped. "You know damn well you don't eat, and god only knows why you do it for Steve, but I certainly won't complain." 

  


Her lecture finished, she shooed the two of them out of the kitchen, telling them, "Go shopping soon, because I made reservations at a restaurant tonight for the two of you. Now out." 

  


"It's really like _I'm_ the assistant sometimes, I swear to god." Tony grumbled, staring at the door that had just been shut behind them. "C'mon, Steve. Before she decides to push us straight into the car and put the keys in the ignition." 

  


Steve was smiling as they made their way down to the garage, especially when he saw Tony subtly take the other half of the bagel and stuff it in his mouth, trying not to let him see. 

  
...

The store went by in a whirlwind for him; Steve had settled into the semi-mechanical routine of letting Tony push clothes into his arms, trying said clothes on, and modeling them for Tony before the engineer decided if they looked any good on him or not. And now he had, at his count, thirty-one leather jackets--one for every day of the month, though Steve wasn't sure why he would need them for the summer. 

  


"I think I have enough clothes to fill two or three wardrobes by now, Tony..." Steve finally piped up as the two made their way down a city sidewalk, passers-by doing double takes at the sight of Captain America singlehandedly carting approximately fifty shopping bags. Tony just snorted, amused, and steered him into a tuxedo shop. 

  


"You have enough casual clothes for this season, maybe." He said. Steve immediately set out to wondering if there was a way to pause the seasons so he wouldn't have to do this again in two months. So far, nothing. 

  


"However, you don't have anything formal, and Coulson will bitch at me if I let you show up to a state dinner or some government-funded crap in leather jackets and sweaters." Tony tsked. "Frankly, I think he just doesn't want all the Senators after you. I echo those sentiments." 

  


Steve blushed. Tony laughed, low and rough in his throat, before pushing him into the store. 

  
...

Tony raised an eyebrow and whistled as the tailors finally finished their work on the tuxedo, bringing Steve out so Tony could take in the complete glory. 

  


"Like watching the second coming of Christ, minus the fact that seeing something that pure would probably make my sin-laden eyes explode." Tony mused, shaking his head. "Jesus Christ, I should take pictures." 

  


"Um." Steve blushed and shifted a little, nervous. "Tony, I don't know. Isn't it...too, y'know, tight?" 

  


"Not tight enough." Tony murmured, so quiet not even Steve's enhanced hearing picked it up. "Oh, and no, it's just fine the way it is; men's fashion has changed, that's all." 

  


"I'd really like to see how it happened." Steve told him. "Like, you know--what happened from in between the Forties to now..." 

  


"Well, we generally try to ignore the Eighties, but the Seventies were okay. The Sixties were a fuckton of denim and dye, which isn't too bad, but it doesn't suit you. Thor really seems to be down with the Nineties grunge, which shouldn't make me laugh, but it really does--god damn, he looks like a jacked-up Kurt Cobain, it fits--" 

  


"Who?" Steve asked. Tony grinned. 

  


"Nevermind." He murmured. 

  


Tony sighed and continued on, joke forgotten. "Anyways, the Fifties wasn't much different, if it helps. I don't think you would've liked that decade though, in any way--not just for the fashion, just..." He frowned. "Lots of bigotry. And it was very masked, too--all hidden and covered up, left to rot. Poor people starved in the cities, which went ignored, Mexican people got shot by cops, the usual bullshit." 

  


Steve just looked at him for a second, taking this all in. Vaguely, Tony realized that, if Steve had been given any recent history at all, it had probably been a very whitewashed version. He looked heartbroken. 

  


"...Tony?" Steve murmured. "Do you think I could've stopped it--if I'd been alive, if I could've changed things for the better?" 

  


Steve looked like he was going to start spiraling and angsting. The hell with that--that was his job. Tony frowned and gripped his shoulders tight, shaking his head and giving him a pointed look. 

  


"Don't concern yourself with it." Tony told him. "There's no good in worrying about what you might've done in the past." 

  


Tony leaned in a little closer, so close Steve could catch his breath, warm and soft and still tinged with the cream cheese from breakfast. Steve didn't tense up or back away. Instead, he focused on the sharp details of Tony's face; the stubble, the soft, dark hairs of his beard and mustache, the bags underneath his eyes, (which Steve promptly resolved to do something about), and the soft curve of his lips as he moved them to speak. 

  


"What you need to do," Tony murmured, "is focus on the future ahead. There's a world out there that needs you more than ever, Cap. You could do _so much good_ right now, just by being who you are." He smiled. "Will you do it?" 

  


"Why are you even asking?" Steve replied, a small smile on his face. Tony laughed. 

  


"Dramatics, dramatics and rhetorics." Tony ruffled his hair as Steve wriggled under his touch, giving him a look of wounded pride at the loss of his immaculate coif. 

  


"Don't worry, your hair will realign itself. It was styled by God Himself, after all." Tony teased. Steve stuck his tongue out at him--an undignified response, but one he knew Tony would understand. 

  


"Speaking of do-gooding, Coulson keeps texting me." Tony murmured. Steve tilted his head. 

  


"How do you know it's him?" He asked. Tony snorted. 

  


"Because every time he does, my phone plays " _I Wanna Be Sedated_ ," and it's been going off for like five minutes now." Tony told him. Steve nodded. 

  


"Oh, so that's what that was." He said, satisfied. "I thought it was just a radio." 

  


"Those really don't exist anymore. Unless you're in a car, or you're an insufferable hipster type." Tony said. "You know what, you need an iPod, too." 

  


"A what?" Steve asked. Tony just shook his head. 

  


"Now is not the time for questions, you still need six more tuxedos. I'm being smart and only giving you one for every day of the week. See? Economics." Tony took out his phone. "I'll see what Coulson wants. You go get tailored." 

  


"Hooray." Steve said, the first note of sarcasm Tony had ever heard from him leaking into his words. Tony just laughed and pushed him back into the dressing room before calling Coulson back. 

  
......

"Phil, what if Tony won't give him back?" Clint asked, perching himself on Coulson's desk and looking into the eyes of the incredibly frustrated secret agent. Coulson just shook his head and massaged his temples. 

  


  


" _Hawkeye_ , for starters, on job. _Agent_ Coulson." He reminded him. Clint rolled his eyes. Coulson continued on, knowing full well he was going to be ignored, for the fiftieth time today. "Anyways, it's not like Stark's holding him hostage; Steve went with him...well, willingly, albeit incredibly flustered, and I called miss Potts last night to make sure that Steve was all right. She sounded like she was having a grand time being addressed as a dame, and assured me Tony was appreciating his company as much as Steve was appreciating his." 

  


"Which is incredibly terrifying." Clint helpfully filled in for him. Coulson nodded. 

  


"Which is incredibly terrifying, yes." He agreed. "Frankly, I'm more worried that Steve's enjoying himself than anything, considering it's, you know...Tony." 

  


"Phil--" 

  


"Widow, Jesus Christ, could someone just call me by my title at some point in this discussion, we're in headquarters, _pretend to care_ \--" Coulson didn't even need to know it was Natasha who had come in and somehow managed to sneak up behind him. No one else could do it, after all. 

  


" _Phil_ ," Natasha began again, giving him a look of amused exasperation, "as I was about to say, Tony isn't as bad as you and Clint enjoy thinking of him as. He's a good influence on Steve." 

  


Coulson laughed the laugh of a very bitter man. Clint just patted his shoulder. Natasha rolled her eyes. 

  


"Not in _that_ way," she emphasized, giving them both a pointed look, "but you and I all know the Captain, for all his charm and sweetness, is an anachronism. He needs to learn about the future, because that's what he's fighting to save right now. Tony is the future, for better or worse, and that's a sort of influence we can't provide." 

  


"Oh, good," Coulson said, his voice practically dragging on the floor under the weight of his heavy, dripping sarcasm, "I can't _wait_ for the world to be populated by a bunch of drunken, eccentric, smart-ass bastards with an eye for half-naked women and corrupting the innocence of too-sweet-to-know-better blond virgins. This must be the evolution that Charles Xavier speaks so highly of." 

  


"In certain circles." Clint agreed. Coulson just glared at him. 

  


"Anyways..." He sighed. "Look, I don't make as many decisions as you two seem to think I do. I don't get to decide whether or not Steve stays with Tony; he's all Fury's problem, and if Fury says no, I might have to be the one who forcibly drags Steve back onto base and locks him back into his room." 

  


"But is that a decision you _agree_ with, Phil?" Natasha murmured. "Do you honestly believe Tony isn't, in some way, a good influence on him? More to the point--don't you think this is what might really make Tony the hero he wants to be?" 

  


"...I don't know." Coulson replied, sighing with such defeat that it made Natasha's heart ache. She kissed the top of his head as Clint rubbed his tired, aching shoulders with the air of experience and routine hanging about him. 

  


"I don't know," Coulson repeated, "and I don't know if there's anything I can do about it, either. I...I'm not really in charge of those decisions." 

  


"No," Natasha agreed quietly, "but you are in charge of taking care of all of us. That should count for something." 

  


Coulson smiled, but there was no humor in it. 

  


"Only to you." He murmured. "Outside of this little bunch...no, Tash. It doesn't matter." 

  


Clint and Natasha looked at each other over Coulson's head, their gazes meeting. Clint raised an eyebrow. Natasha nodded. 

  


"Come on, Phil," Clint cajoled him, "Thor and Bruce are in the rec room. Why don't we just go in there and relax for the night? You're done with your paperwork, and Bruce got us a PS3, so we're going to watch Toy Story 3 on Blu-Ray. You know, for tears and sobbing in high-definition." 

  


"I should send some kind of thank-you note to Pixar for all the times that their movies have made Bruce relax." Coulson mumbled. Clint snorted. 

  


"More like sob himself into an existential crisis, but whatever turns him from a hulking rage monster into a fluffy bunny is fine by me." Clint said. "Anyways, c'mon. We'll order pizza." 

  


"We have to order a whole pie for Thor, you know how he eats." Coulson said. "Is it some kind of weird Asgardian trait to be born with a hollow leg? I should ask." 

  


"See, this is what Tasha meant." Clint told him. "You take care of us. You should have a say in this somewhere..." 

  


The two agents could feel a cloud of brooding descending upon their nanny already. They both just sighed. 

  


"C'mon, Phil." Clint said, pulling him up from his chair with one well-muscled arm. "TV. Couch. Laziness. You know how to slouch." 

  


"I do not," Coulson said, with a heavy air of amusement about him that had already banished the brooding, "you, however, do enough slouching for the three of us." 

  


"Ouch." Natasha teased. Clint just fumed, taking it out on Coulson's immaculately combed hair. 

  


"Barton, I can have you locked out of the archery grounds in ten seconds flat. Watch me." Coulson muttered. Clint whined and clung to him pitifully. 

  


Before that argument could start, however, Thor smashed open the door. He did it with good intentions, of course, and honestly, there weren't many Midgardian doors that didn't buckle underneath the strength of the thunder god. Coulson would have figured that his door would have been reinforced, since he spent so much time around the man, but then again, it was bureaucracy he was dealing with. 

  


"Son of Coul, I have a message from the automated box outside!" Thor told him. Coulson glared pointedly at all three of them. 

  


"Agent Coul--" He stopped himself. "You know what, at least Thor got half of it right. Hell with it." He sighed. "So, what is it?" 

  


"My shieldbrothers are back." Thor told him. "Tony has pizza. And those mystifying white boxes with the wires." 

  


"Oh, thank god, he saved me the trouble." Coulson sighed, relieved. "All right, then. Everyone to the wrecking room." 

  


"The wrecking room, huh?" Natasha said, amused, as the group of them made their way down the hallway. Coulson looked at her and raised an eyebrow. 

  


"You would call it the same thing if you'd been underneath it during a meeting while you were all up there doing...whatever." Coulson said dismissively. Natasha tsked and kissed his cheek. 

  


"Was that the time where Thor smashed through the floor?" She asked. "I think that was his way of knocking. He just wanted to know where you were." 

  


"He could do it less destructively," Coulson muttered, but the both of them knew full well he was lying. Natasha just grinned. 

  


"Don't be such a grump, Bruce got a happy movie this time." Clint said, hanging up his phone. "I just asked. He got Up." 

  


"How in the hell is that a happy movie?" Coulson asked. Clint shrugged. 

  


"Relativity." He said. "You know, if he hulked out when he was sad, too, we'd be pretty fucked, huh?" 

  


"Language on the job, Hawkeye." Coulson admonished him. "But...yeah, we'd all pretty much be fucked." 

  


"The movie cannot be that bad!" Thor told them. "Surely it is nowhere near as bad as that movie with the Midgardian playthings." 

  


"Well, yeah. Relativity." Coulson said. "Thor, go out and tell Tony we're in the wrecking room, all right? Widow, Hawkeye, you go on ahead. There's...something I need to get quick." 

  


"Don't take too long," Clint warned him, "you have five minutes. Then I send Nat after you. And if you're getting your phone, we'll break it." 

  


"Duly noted, agent." Coulson told him, heading back into his office. 

  


They let him shut the door behind him. 

  


"...Are you two worried about him as well?" Natasha asked, as soon as she was sure he was gone. 

  


Both men nodded. 

  
...

From within his office, Coulson rummaged through the stacks and stacks of paperwork. Finally, he found the file he was looking for. 

  


"Rogers, Steve." He murmured. "Probably a breach of privacy, but I think Tony should see this..." 

  


He paused for a moment, and considered something. Then he nodded, satisfied, and grabbed Tony's file as well. They should both know a little more about each other. Then he figured they could decide for themselves if they really thought this was for the best. 

  


Coulson sighed and headed down towards the rec room, his heart heavy with worry. As much as he hated to admit it, Tony was his responsibility, just like Clint and Natasha and the other Avengers were. He didn't mind admitting Steve was his responsibility as much, but...still. They ought to know. 

  


He slipped back downstairs with the files in his hands. 

  



	7. Steve Rogers, the Last Unicorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve sleeps like a precious angel, surprising no one. Coulson has his money on the good Captain being secretly a unicorn. Steve also cannot order Chinese, much to Tony's amusement. Thor is very enthusiastic about card games. And also, there is Tony having feels. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sorry these updates keep being really late! It's been a busy week, and truth be told, formatting these things takes time and effort--it means that they get put by the wayside to write more or do homework, et cetera. So it's just the perfect storm lately of "updates at ten or never," and I apologize.   
> Anyways--the Chinese were our allies in WWII for awhile, and honestly, I have a feeling that if Steve had a Chinese soldier in his unit he would've learned Chinese--which is probably why he's so baffled by "Americanized" Chinese food places. Way I see it, he went in there speaking flawless Mandarin and was met with complete bafflement from the other people waiting to order. And then, because he is perfect, he would apologize for disturbing everyone, and Tony would just sit there, try not to laugh until he got somewhere private, and record the whole thing. I just couldn't write it in this chapter--it would've broken the flow too much--but hell, it might end up as a oneshot.  
> Angst and stuff! Always angst. Tony has a terrible measure of his self worth and needs hugs, cuddles, and love and support. Convenient Steve exists, huh?   
> And that's mostly it--the next chapter is a guaranteed angst machine, just as a warning. I hope that doesn't turn too many people off...  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, regardless!

Tony had stopped on the way back to headquarters for pizza and Chinese for a reason; Steve looked totally amazed by the takeout shops, and watching him try to order Chinese was honestly one of the funniest things Tony had seen in his life. (He had, of course, recorded it for posterity's sake.) 

  


Besides, Pepper had picked up the bags of clothes, and so they had some time to kill before heading back home; no need to worry about carrying them around. Plus, Tony figured he ought to check in and see if him kidnapping Steve had created any waves. 

  


So far, it evidently hadn't; no sign of Fury, or, what Tony was more worried about, Fury's gun in his face. It was just him and the rest of the team in the wrecking room. 

  


"Shieldbrother!" Thor gave him about a moment's notice before crushing him in a rib-crunching hug. "It is good to see you and the Captain back home. I was getting concerned." 

  


"I can tell." Tony said, muffled by the tight grip that was currently pressing him against Thor's disturbingly well-muscled chest. "We brought Chinese. And pizza." 

  


"I can almost forgive you for missing the briefing last night." Coulson said. "Of course, that doesn't account for the other eight briefings you've already missed." 

  


"I don't ca--" 

  


"Tony," Steve began, "you really shouldn't miss briefings. They're important, and besides, there might be something that you need to know about that's going on. What if you get hurt on a mission because you were late to the briefing? I don't want that to happen, ever." He smiled. "Besides, you're going to be driving me now, and I hate being late." 

  


There was silence in the room for a minute. Everyone else panicked. Tony never listened. Tony never let anyone tell him what to do. What was going to happen now? 

  


"...Fine." Tony muttered. "Just carry the Chinese to the table."

  


Coulson looked like someone had just exploded into a confetti of puppies in front of him. Everyone else looked shocked as well, (though admittedly not on the level of puppy confetti.) 

  


"...Did he just--" Natasha's whisper, too soft for Tony to hear, was cut off by an amazed nod from Clint. 

  


"He _made him listen_ , you guys," Bruce whispered, "he made _Tony_ listen to him." 

  


"Maybe he's really a wizard." Clint offered. 

  


"Or an angel." Natasha said. 

  


"You're all completely crazy." Coulson mouthed. "And for the record, my money's on him being some kind of unicorn." 

  


"Is something wrong?" Steve asked, looking up. They all froze up for a minute before looking at each other. 

  


"Nothing, nothing." Coulson said hurriedly. "Let me just go get some paper plates..." 

  


He fled so fast that they could practically see the clouds of dust kicking up behind him. 

  


"Traitor." Clint hissed. Natasha just put her hand over her mouth to hide a smile. 

  


...

Steve really liked Chinese food. It was a bit strange--he had never eaten anything like it--but Tony had been right; he said he would like it, and so he did! It was...nice. 

  


Pizza was always pizza, though; that hadn't changed. He let Thor demolish that, since he was more interested in trying the new things in front of him; shrimp mai fun, lo mein...it was all so good! 

  


He finally had to concede defeat, however, after a few helpings; he groaned softly and put a hand over his gently-bulging stomach, sinking into the couch. Tony cooed at him and grinned, amused. 

  


"Tummyache, Steve?" He teased. Steve grunted and glared up at him half-heartedly before whimpering pitifully with pain. Tony settled in beside him and stroked his hair in comfort, and Steve closed his eyes, satisfied. Tony couldn't resist the puppy whimper. Nobody could. 

  


"It's only six, Steve." Tony told him. "Don't tell me you're going to sleep..."

  


"M'not." Steve promised. Then he closed his eyes and did exactly that, his breath making his chest rise and fall gently. Tony smiled, amused, before looking up at the others. 

  


"Don't you dare." He warned them. 

  


"Wasn't going to tell you how gay you are for him," Clint piped up, "I didn't think you needed to be told." 

  


"You can just go fuck yourself with your own arrows, Barton." Tony muttered. "I'm just playing with him. He doesn't know any better." 

  


"Oh, bullshit!" Clint snapped. "The way you look at him is nothing short of true love, Stark--you can't keep your hands off of him, your eyes, you--you know what--" 

  


"Don't." Tony said. 

  


He didn't even change the volume of his voice. All that changed was the tone. That was enough to make Clint back off. 

  


"If you don't want me to tell you anything," Clint breathed, finding his courage again--he was Clint Barton, after all--"then you shouldn't bullshit yourself. Maybe then I wouldn't need to call you out on it." 

  


"I've been a slut for as long as you've had me on this team." Tony snapped. "Why the hell do you think I'm lying?" 

  


"Because it's him." Clint replied. "Captain America. Your hero. The guy of your dreams. You always knew that." 

  


Tony didn't say a word. 

  


"...Stark," Coulson began, "I have something for you." 

  


He followed Coulson out without a word, shutting the door with a gentle click behind him--after all, he didn't want to wake up Steve. 

  
...

"So." Tony murmured. "My little outburst aside, which we're going to ignore for obvious reasons, what's up?" 

  


Coulson pressed a manila folder into his hands and gave him a careful look. 

  


"This is S.H.I.E.L.D.'s file on Steve." He told him. "I...figured you should know what you were getting in to." 

  


"If you're trying to talk me out of letting him stay at my place--" Tony's protests were cut off as Coulson held up a hand to stop him. 

  


"I'm not. But Fury might." Coulson told him. "So...know what you're doing, okay? That's all I ask." 

  


"Okay." Tony murmured. "...Coulson?" He swallowed. "I'm--I'm sure you don't care, but--" 

  


"Oh, shut the hell up." Coulson snapped. "Of course I care, you idiot. You're an Avenger. You're my responsibility." 

  


"...I..." Tony looked away and coughed nervously, clearing his throat. "Okay, then." 

  


It took Tony a minute to remember where he had been going with that train of thought. Once he did, however, he looked so terribly sad that Coulson didn't know what to say. 

  


"I think I'm in love with him," Tony murmured, "just a little, maybe. But...I don't deserve that. So, you know. Once he gets fed up with dealing with me...just a word of advice; leave his room open here. He won't stay with me for long. No one ever does." 

  


"Correction," Coulson said quietly, "No one ever _has_. There's always a first time for that sort of thing, you know that." 

  


"Cut me off at the knees with a cliche, why don't you?" Tony murmured. "I just...figured you should know. Since, y'know. My track record with dates and all." 

  


"Clint was right, though." Coulson replied. "He's Cap. He's your dream made flesh; I doubt you're going to walk away from him easily." 

  


"Yeah." Tony agreed. "But...him, though." He shrugged haplessly. "Whatever, Coulson. Is there anything else you need to give me?" 

  


"Well, Steve's asleep, but--I pulled out your file, too. Are you okay with him seeing it?" Coulson asked. Tony nodded. 

  


"Fair's fair." He said. "Besides, he should know what he's getting in to, too." He muttered. Coulson just sighed and handed him the file to give to Steve. He didn't know what to say to Tony, but he figured he could fix things, given time. If not...well... 

  


He didn't know. But something would figure itself out. 

  


Tony left without a word, leaving Coulson alone in the hallway. The agent sighed and shook his head. 

  


"I'd be a bit of a hypocrite if I told him not to date within the team, wouldn't I?" Coulson mused aloud. 

  


"I think so, yes." From behind him, Natasha's voice materialized in his ear. Coulson had no problem admitting he jumped about a foot into the air. 

  


"Why the hell did you two sneak up behind me?" He demanded. "Don't think I don't know you're not there, either, Clint." 

  


"Dammit." Clint muttered, stepping out of the shadows as Natasha simply smiled. 

  


"You were out here too long." She told him. "We were beginning to get worried." 

  


Coulson huffed and headed back into the wrecking room. Natasha and Clint just shared a smirk. 

  
...

The two of them stayed at headquarters for a little while before going home; Steve was sleeping peacefully on the couch, and Tony didn't have the heart to move him. He and the other Avengers played cards over Steve sleeping peacefully beside them; it wasn't all bad, and he got to teach Thor how to play gin rummy. That had made for a fun evening, but once the god really got into it, that meant Steve got woken up from the shouting. 

  


Steve stirred, looked around, and blinked sleepily, his eyes wide but bleary with exhaustion. Tony's heart ached to look at him, so innocent and sweet, his eyes shining a soft blue as their gazes met. 

  


In that moment, soft, sleepy innocence and delicate smile on display, Tony wanted to touch him so very badly--to stroke his hair and kiss his forehead, to tell him he loved him the only way he knew how; through touch and sex and physical gestures. Steve would shirk away from those, though, he knew that. So he let his love fill his words and prayed that, for the moment, it was enough. 

  


"Hey, soldier." Tony murmured, his voice gentle, and everyone else in the room paused in what they were doing and listened, stunned; no one had ever heard Tony talk that way to anyone. 

  


"Hi, Tony." Steve mumbled sleepily, giving him another big, warm smile, all bleariness and sleepiness. "I didn't ruin the party, did I?" 

  


"Nah, we just played cards." Tony told him. "Do you wanna go home? We really should set up your room and get your clothes into the closet. Besides...I've got some stuff to go over." 

  


"Mmkay." Steve agreed. "Will we be back tomorrow?" 

  


"Of course," Tony said, helping him up off the couch, "this is our family now. Whether they like it or not." 

  


Steve laughed. Tony smiled. 

  


It was then and there that Natasha, who had been around him the longest, realized that she had never really seen Tony smile. It was...bittersweet to realize. 

  


"Okay." Steve agreed. "Goodnight, everyone. Please don't stay up too late. It's not good for you!" 

  


"Yeah, we know." Tony muttered. "Doesn't stop me." 

  


"Actually," Steve began as they left the room, Tony clutching the files Coulson had given him as he eyed Steve warily, "I've been meaning to talk to you about your bedtime..." 

  


The other Avengers watched the two of them go. 

  


"...I have a feeling Tony's new bedtime is going to be sometime around seven." Bruce remarked. "Just saying." 

  


"You're a very charitable man, Doctor Banner," Clint remarked, "because I just figured Steve wasn't ever going to let Tony leave his bed." 

  


Coulson didn't even try to stop their immature giggling. He had fought enough battles for the day. 

  



	8. Tony Has Feels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has feels. Steve tries to help. There is shared angst-bonding. Howard is a terrible father with severe love issues. This sort of totally rubbed off on Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooops trying to write filler for this and then end up making it longer than the chapter itself. Such is life, I guess.  
> Tony has feels might as well be the goddamn title of this story, let's get real. Seriously, like, at least five of these eight chapters are Tony angsting and having feels. He is just such a woobie, really, and I like beating him with a misery stick made of sorrow and broken dreams. He's just one of those characters where that makes total sense and has canonical basis. Thank you, Marvel.  
> So this is sad and also Tony cusses a lot because he is a naughty boy with a filthy mouth, but who cares? He does what he wants.  
> I sort of twisted comic canon and movie canon into a tie here--I don't think Steve's dad was an alcoholic in the movie, (or at least they never discussed it), but in comic canon, he apparently was, which was why Steve had such massive problems with Tony drinking. I can meld canon if it leads to more heartbreak and hurt/comfort down the line, okay?  
> Also, oh god, over one hundred kudos! Thanks so much, everyone. It means a whole lot to me. ^^  
> Question, though--is it really okay if I reply to comments? It just sorta inflates the comments I get and I feel weird doing it. I'm used to FFN where it's sort of seen as tacky, but like, there doesn't seem to be any other way to do it, dammit! And I do want to explain things and tell you guys how much I appreciate all this, so...I guess I'll start. Apologies to anyone who thinks I'm just trying to make myself look cool or whatever; I just want to make sure people know I treasure every comment.  
> And uh, that's mostly it! I need to stop updating at ten, lolsob. Hopefully the weekend will be a bit better. Plus, I have a side fic for this fic and a (thankfully entirely completed) wedding-fic, which is also Steve/Tony, though comics-based. So I might start putting those up, too; keep an eye out!  
> Hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you for continuing to read and review and tell me how awesome I am. It means so much. :3

"Hey, Steve." Tony murmured as they made their way out of the S.H.I.E.L.D. complex and towards the car. The blond stirred and stretched, looking at Tony, confused. 

  


"Somethin' wrong?" Steve mumbled, blinking with exhaustion, his eyes heavy-lidded with the need for sleep. Tony shook his head. 

  


"Nothing's wrong, Steve." Tony said, his heart heavy with the knowledge that what he was going to give Steve might make the man he loved walk away from him forever. "We're going to take the long way home, okay? You can see more of the city that way." 

  


"Okay." Steve agreed. "It's a very big city now, Tony." He blushed, self-conscious of his own ignorance. "N-not that it wasn't big before!" He defended himself. "It's just...a lot flashier now. And there's more people, and buildings, and...it's impressive." He smiled. "I'm glad I got to come back to New York." 

  


"Yeah...me too." Tony murmured. "I love this place, I really do. It's...alive." He shrugged. "Don't worry, Steve. I'll take you to the best places I can, I promise. Any bar, or club, or restaurant..." He trailed off as he realized Steve was giving him an odd look. 

  


"...What about the park?" Steve asked, tilting his head. "Or a store? Or...I don't know...a cafe, maybe..." 

  


He trailed off as he looked at Tony. He looked so completely distraught that it hurt a little to think he had been the one to do that to Tony. Steve put a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

  


"Hey, I'm sorry." Steve whispered. "I didn't mean to sound ungrateful, Tony. I'm so glad you're being so nice to me...I don't really know why, but...I really like you, so I'm happy." He said, trying to comfort him. Tony shrugged haplessly. 

  


"S'fine." He mumbled. "Makes sense that you wouldn't be into clubs or fancy restaurants or whatever--what the fuck was I thinking, Jesus--" 

  


"Tony, Tony, ssh." Steve soothed him, squeezing his shoulder tighter. Briefly, he debated hugging Tony, but then he decided that it would simply make the other man think he was being weird or overly affectionate--Tony didn't seem to want much physical affection from other men... "It's okay. You're trying to give me what you know. I get it." He smiled. 

  


"How about we trade off a bit more?" He offered. "I'll go to the clubs and the restaurants and things like that if you come with me to the park or out for coffee." He frowned, considering. "...Do they have dancing at clubs?" He asked. "Is that still a thing?" 

  


Tony looked at him for a minute. Then he laughed, soft and small, as if he was helpless to do anything else. 

  


"Yeah, they still dance at clubs." Tony said. "It's not the kind of dancing you're used to, but whatever." 

  


"Okay." Steve agreed. "Maybe you could show me how to dance like everyone does now?" 

  


The thought came to Tony pretty much unbidden after that--his hands on Steve's waist, his hips, somewhere across his strong, well-muscled back, fingers digging in as his hips ground against Steve's own, sparking desire between the two of them like a roaring fire, dancing in the muted darkness of a club where they could hide, no longer Captain America and Iron Man, but two people in love and desperate for contact. 

  


He just opened the door of the car and got in. 

  


"Fine." He said, and he would have felt bad for his brusque manner if he hadn't been a churning mess of lust and self-loathing at the moment. "I don't mind going to a cafe or the park or whatever, either." He offered, an attempt to apologize for snapping. Evidently, Steve took it, because he brightened up considerably as he got into the car beside Tony and buckled his seatbelt, snuggling into the soft leather seat and closing his eyes. 

  


Tony couldn't help but smile at how sweetly Steve slept. For a man who had fought in World War II for so long, probably surrounded by constant gunfire and explosions...he slept like a child, all smooth face and soft innocence. It made him look so young and sweet. It made Tony feel old and twisted. 

  


He reminded himself that Steve was definitely at least eighteen by now, and if they counted the years spent in the ice, he was officially the cradle-robber, not Tony. It didn't make him feel better, but he tried. 

  


Tony chuckled to himself as he backed out of the garage, heading down towards the ground floor as Steve opened a single eye and looked at him, smiling sleepily and putting his hand on Tony's for a second. 

  


"Hey, Tony?" Steve mumbled. "Now I really am curious. Why are you being so nice to me?" 

  


Tony laughed. If he played it cool, Steve would never find out about his worshipful devotion or borderline obsession with him. He just had to be subtle, suave, and clever. That was easy. He was Tony Stark. 

  


"My dad basically taught me to love you." Tony began, and apparently, threw out suave, subtle, and clever at the first thing out of his mouth. New record, he supposed. Tony sighed. 

  


"Steve, I don't think you understand what you meant to my father." He told him. "Howard...he _loved_ you, Steve. You were his reason to be good, and moral, and right...because you were with him, holding him up and forcing him to be better, really." Tony said. "When you left..." 

  


"I'm sorry," Steve said automatically, as if he could apologize for saving the world--or as if Tony would want him to. Tony just gave him a look and shook his head. 

  


"There's nothing to apologize for." He comforted him. "It's not your fault. You didn't make Howard Stark. You weren't responsible for him." 

  


"But maybe I should've been!" Steve snapped. "If he needed me that bad, then I--" 

  


"Steve, for fuck's sake, there was nothing to be done about my father!" Tony was yelling now, and he felt terrible, but if Steve started to think about his father and the "maybes" and the "if I could've's," then Tony was going to legitimately dig up his father's corpse and burn it. For Steve. Oh, yes. Everything for Steve. 

  


"My father," Tony began, "was an alcoholic, an asshole, and one of the worst parents humanly possible." He sighed. "You couldn't change that. I couldn't change that. I just...accepted it. And tried to...tried to...I don't know." Tony shook his head. "It doesn't matter. He's dead now. He's gone and I never have to deal with him again..." 

  


"It seems like you're still dealing with him." Steve replied softly, his eyes-still half closed. "At least, what he did to you." 

  


Tony bit his lip so hard it bled. Steve started, shocked, and fumbled for the glove compartment, grabbing a napkin and glaring at him. 

  


"Pull over," he demanded, his eyes suddenly blue steel and his bearing like a tiger poised to spring, "you're bleeding." 

  


Tony rolled his eyes. 

  


"Steve, it's a cut on my lip, not a life-threatening--" 

  


" _Pull over_." Steve said. He did not snarl, he did not snap. He simply changed the tone of his voice, just a little. 

  


Tony pulled over. 

  


Steve's hands were on his face, gentle and careful and almost sad as they touched him. He seemed to be apologizing as he stroked Tony's bottom lip carefully, soaking up the blood with the napkin and waiting for it to stop bleeding before finally pulling away and letting Tony grip the wheel again. 

  


"So he did hurt you." Steve said softly, as Tony pulled back out onto the road. "You don't react to anything like that, ever." 

  


"Not now, Steve." Tony said, trying to sound demanding and authoritative, and instead coming off as desperate and lost. "Just...just let it go." 

  


To his surprise, Steve did. Tony knew full well that wasn't permanent--the Captain didn't seem like the type to let things go easily. But it was for the moment, which was all Tony needed. He sighed. 

  


"Anyways, dad...dad loved you, like I said, and...he told me stories." Tony murmured. "Stories of your life. The things about your time before the war that you'd told him--your mother, mostly. Your art. Sometimes he said you talked about Peggy." Tony laughed and shook his head. "Dad said that broke his heart. I didn't get why until I got older...then I understood." Tony sighed. "I understood more than I ever wanted to, damn it." 

  


"...Everything?" Steve whispered. "He told you everything?" 

  


"I don't know." Tony said. "But...the things he told me...all about you, and what you did--the battles you fought, the Holocaust victims you saved, all the times you stopped the Red Skull, everything that you did...you were his hero. And as such, you became mine." He smiled. "It was...really the only thing we had in common, our love for you. It was always something to talk about." Tony closed his eyes. 

  


"Sometimes if he drank, he would just sit there and cry." Tony murmured. "I was never sure why. One day, I asked him about you...and it made him cry harder. I didn't get that, either, until he told me that you wouldn't want to see him like this." He sighed. "He told me that if you ever came back, you weren't allowed to see what he'd become." Tony shrugged. "He died before you did, though. So it didn't matter." 

  


"...Tony..." Steve said softly. "I...I'm sorry." 

  


"Don't be." Tony told him. "He wouldn't have wanted you to see him the way he was by then. It wouldn't have been worth it." 

  


The two of them drove on in silence for a few minutes. Then Tony sighed and buried a hand in his hair. 

  


"I...I just--Steve, you meant the world to me." He confessed. "He told me how wonderful and amazing and perfect you were--are, I guess--and what a hero you were...and he told me..." Tony swallowed. 

  


"He told me to wait for you. Because you would come back, someday, and you would need someone. He told me that he couldn't be that person anymore, and that I had to do it." Tony closed his eyes. He was not crying. God damn it, he was not--he _would not_ \-- 

  


"I'm sorry," Tony whispered, "because I don't think I'm that person, either." 

  


There was a pause for a second or two. 

  


Then Steve's hand was on his shoulder, firm and strong and comforting, like a rock in a boiling sea. Tony tensed, but as Steve squeezed, the feel of his fingers made Tony relax, just a little. 

  


"You are a good man," Steve told him, "who helped me, and saved me, and you are trying to teach me about the ways of a world I need to save. You are the man I needed, Tony, whether you realize it or not." He smiled, then, and it was so warm and beautiful and perfect that it hurt Tony to be on the receiving end of something he so clearly did not deserve. 

  


"Thank you." Steve said. "Thank you for everything, Tony. Everything you do means so much to me..." 

  


Tony drove for a while longer with his hands trembling on the wheel. 

  


That clinched it, then. He had to tell Steve. This had to stop--it had to stop right then and there. He did not deserve this. He was not worthy of this love or affection. Captain America _could not_ love him. 

  


"Before you really start singing my praises, I have something to give you." Tony said. Steve tilted his head, confused. 

  


"...Yes?" He asked, eyes flicking down over to Tony's jacket, curious if something was hidden in his pockets. Tony sighed. 

  


He hated himself for what he was about to do. But he could deal with hating himself. That was normal. Steve loved him, though, and that wasn't okay. He would have to hate him too. It was safer that way. 

  


"It's just--Coulson gave me our dossiers, and he figured...you would want to read mine. You know. So you could know about what you're getting into." Tony explained. His heart hurt. The arc reactor glowed brighter within him, as if in protest. 

  


"...Why would I read your file?" Steve asked, confused. "Why couldn't you just tell me?" 

  


Tony gripped the wheel of the car and tried not to let himself lose it. Naturally, he failed. Just like he did with everything else. 

  


"Because do you really want to hear my bullshit sob story?" Tony snapped. "Do you honestly fucking think the life and times of some drunkard prodigy who grew up into a total sleaze because that's what dad did, and if dad fucked women, then so did Tony, regardless of what he really wanted, what he really _needed?_ " 

  


"Do you really think you need to listen to the stupid whining of some fucked-up alcoholic slut who was too stupid to realize he was going to fucking destroy the goddamned world with his stupid fucking weapons, and got one of the bravest men he ever knew killed, because he _just wasn't good enough_ , and had his stupid heart torn to fucking shreds because of the weapons he created?" Tony laughed. It was a bitter, cold, darkly humorous laugh. 

  


"Do you honestly give a shit about anything I tell you? Why would you? How could the story of some stupid bastard who let his father's best friend walk all over him, and, and hurt him, and almost get one of his best friends killed with his bullshit--how could--why would you--why would you ever care about that?" Tony spat. 

  


"Why the fuck would you want to hear that story? Why would you want to sift through all my bullshit? Just read the fucking file, it's better than hearing it from me. All you'll hear from me is what an idiotic slut I am." Tony snorted. 

  


"Like it fucking matters." He murmured, eyes cloudy and downcast. " _I_ don't matter, Steve. I...I don't even know why I'm talking right now." He closed his eyes. "I just...I figured you should hear the truth. I'm telling you the idealized version of me right now." He laughed bitterly. "Says a lot, doesn't it?" 

  


Steve was very quiet. Tony kept driving for a long time, not saying a word, either. 

  


"Did he give you mine?" Steve finally asked. Tony nodded. Steve snorted. It was the first real sound of derision or disgust Tony had ever heard him make.

  


"Why would you want to hear the story of a kid whose father got blown up in the war after terrorizing his family with his alcohol abuse?" Steve snapped. "Why would _that_ matter to you?" He shuddered and closed his eyes for a second, apparently unused to thinking about his troubles. Once he got going, however, his eyes were alight with a multitude of emotions Tony couldn't name, his voice powerful and full of force as he continued. 

  


"Why would the story of a kid who was a drain on his mother and her income because of how sick he was all the time matter to you at all? Why would the life and times of the loneliest, dumbest kid in the world, with practically no friends and no future, appeal to you? Why would you care about a kid who watched his mother almost starve herself to death during the Depression to feed him, or a kid whose best friend in the world died right in front of him, because _he just wasn't good enough_ , or--or anything? Why would you want to hear that story?" Steve asked. 

  


" _Because you fucking matter_!" Tony screamed. 

  


The car fell silent. Steve was shaking. So was Tony. 

  


"You are _Captain America_. You _matter_. You matter to the world. You matter to me." Tony told him. "Of course I wanna know. Why wouldn't I?" 

  


"Well--well you matter too, Tony!" Steve shouted. "You matter a whole lot! You--you're Tony Stark! You're Iron Man! You--you matter to the whole world. And...and you matter to me." Steve murmured, suddenly soft and gentle as he looked at Tony, his eyes sparkling with both affection and tears. "Of course I want to know about you. Why wouldn't I?" 

  


"Weren't you just listening?" Tony snapped. Steve nodded. 

  


"I was." He murmured. "And I think that I don't need the file. The file couldn't tell me all about the wonderfully brave boy who survived a hard childhood and some tough times to learn from his mistakes so he could honor the memory of his friend." Steve said gently. "And maybe you're still having some tough times now. But at least I know that. At least...at least I can help." 

  


"You can't help." Tony snapped. "Especially since it seems like you don't really understand the story." 

  


"I understand it perfectly well, Tony." Steve said gently. "I think it's you that doesn't understand. You're blinded by your own perceptions. All you see is your flaws. And all I see..." 

  


Steve's hand was on his cheek. Tony was either going to die or drive them off the road. 

  


"All I see is Tony Stark." Steve murmured. "All I see is the future. My future." 

  


Nothing else was said. 

  


Tony managed to make it home, pull the car into the mansion garage, get them both upstairs, get Steve into his room, and shut the lights off and wish him goodnight before bursting into tears, clutching the pillow and doing his best to sob quietly so that Steve wouldn't hear him. 

  


Of course he did, though. So Steve waited until he heard the sobs quiet and taper off into soft, slow breaths, and for Tony's heartbeat to slow down. 

  


Without a word, he quietly picked his way out of bed and across the hall, coming into Tony's room. The arc reactor glowed dimly in the darkness of the bedroom, and Steve stopped for a moment to bask in it. 

  


Then, with a gentle, lingering touch, he brushed the tears away from Tony's cheeks, pulled the blankets up around him, took his shoes off for him, and tucked him into bed. 

  


Steve left the room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click--but not before murmuring gently, "Goodnight, Tony." 

  


In his sleep, Tony smiled. 

  



	9. Fuzzy Pink Bathrobe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuzzy pink bathrobes are a lot funnier when the man wearing one has had about three hours of sleep. Clint is a pervert. Tony has feels. So do Steve and Pepper, actually. Everyone is worrying over Fury. Steve has a hidden devious side. Everyone prepares for some kind of showdown or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry about no updates yesterday, plans with friends turned into a sleepover. It got a little hectic! But that's okay, you have an update now.  
> Just want to say to everyone, thank you so much for all your reviews and love. It does mean a lot to me.  
> Not just Tony with feels this time! Everyone in this chapter has feels! Hooray, I guess! I mean, if you're into feels all over, and I assume you are, since you continue to read this, and this fic is essentially "WHAT IF ALL THE AVENGERS HAD ALL THE FEELS ALL THE TIME," so, you know.  
> Anywho, hope you enjoy this chapter, apologize for the late updates, and enjoy your feels!

The next morning, Steve immediately made his way to Tony's bedroom. The clock had beeped at him, and once Steve had seen the time, he panicked; they had a briefing at noon, and he knew Tony was slow to get ready. 

  


He got out of bed as fast as he could, making his way quickly over to Tony's room, opening the door and coming in. He stopped for a second to smile at the warm, general clutter of Tony's room; clothes everywhere, blueprints plastered across the walls and spilling off his desk, dirty socks by the dozen, and in the midst of a bed with blankets strewn haphazardly about lay a half-naked Tony Stark, snoring disinterestedly and completely dead to the world. 

  


Steve couldn't help but smile at how innocent he looked. All of Tony's bluster, his bravado and swagger, and, thankfully, his problems...all of them melted away as the morning light fell about his face. 

  


Steve's heart swelled with something he didn't quite understand. He had felt it when he looked at Peggy, once. She had smiled at him. But...Tony wasn't smiling. So what was it? 

  


He shook his head. Now was not the time to worry, even if his heart was beating in between his ears like the loudest drum in the world, and his whole body seemed to pulse with life. He had to wake up Tony. 

  


Steve leaned over Tony, tilting his head, concerned. It was almost eleven o'clock, and they had to get ready. 

  


"Tony?" Steve murmured. "Hey, Tony? Are you awake?" 

  


The engineer did not stir. Steve frowned, biting his lip. It was late, and he knew Pepper would want him to wake Tony up...but nothing seemed to be working. 

  


"Tony!" Steve called into his ear, an idea suddenly occurring to him. "Tony, please wake up! I need you!" 

  


He heard a soft snuffle and blinked, surprised. Then he smiled with triumph as Tony's eyes began to open, his eyelashes fluttering gently as he inhaled and looked up at Steve, assessing him for injuries or pain. Once he saw Steve was okay, he grunted, looking away and pouting. 

  


"Mph." Tony mumbled, closing his eyes again. Steve huffed. 

  


"Tony, get up." He told him. "There's a meeting in an hour. You need to get dressed and eat breakfast." 

  


"I want pancakes." Tony grunted. Steve rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he pulled the blankets back and opened the blinds. 

  


"If you get up and get dressed, I'll make you some pancakes." Steve promised. 

  


That did it; Tony was awake and pushing himself up off the bed within a minute. He was dressed in another minute more, his shirt buttoned neatly and his suit coat hanging off his shoulder. Steve blinked, shocked. 

  


"...Oh." He murmured. Then he laughed, the warmth and delight in it spreading throughout Tony's entire body, winding through him like gentle motes of light through a window. 

  


"Oh, okay." Steve said. "If that's all I have to do every morning to wake you up, then I will." His eyes twinkled as he opened the door and beckoned to Tony. "C'mon, I'm sure Pepper made coffee." 

  


Tony swallowed, nodded, and followed Steve downstairs--for once, completely eager to start the day. 

  


...

In another house, a couple of miles away, three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents stirred, vaguely aware of the sun in their eyes. None of them wanted to be up. That much was clear. Still, the cursory question had to be asked. 

  


"What time is it?" 

  


"Eleven." Clint said, rolling over in bed and checking the clock. Natasha grunted. 

  


"What time did we go to bed?" She asked. Clint winced. 

  


"Uh." He fumbled for an answer. "Eight?" 

  


"Not bad." Natasha murmured, pleased. 

  


"No, eight AM." Clint said. "Y'know, in the morning." 

  


The noise Natasha made then wasn't really human. Clint flinched and nudged away from her before bumping into Coulson, who snorted with shock and flailed for a minute, in an oddly adorable freakout. Clint grinned and kissed his forehead. 

  


"We have a meeting today." Coulson mumbled, rubbing his eyes and sighing. "Clint, go make coffee." 

  


"I don't want to go." Clint whined. Coulson gave him a look. 

  


"Fury's going to be there." He told him. "And he wants to talk." 

  


That did it; both agents were hightailing it out of the bed faster than Coulson could blink. He just sighed and massaged his temples before getting out of bed himself and going to look for his robe. 

  
...

"So, are either of you worried?" Natasha asked, perched on the counter and sipping her espresso. The shock of barely three hours of sleep had worn off; truth be told, she was too tired to be shocked. Clint shrugged and sipped his coffee, shaking his head. 

  


"I don't know. I mean, what's the big deal, right? It's not my problem." Clint frowned. "But that's the thing, Nat. I feel like I have to be there. For Tony, and for Steve. Because it really does matter...since we're on a team now, y'know." 

  


"Yes..." Natasha nodded an agreement, stretching out her legs as Clint grinned, bowed, and kissed her knee. She bumped it up to meet his lips and tsked, grinning, as Clint sputtered. "We are on a team. That means we care." 

  


"You guys sure picked up on that notion fast." Coulson remarked, the pride in his voice unmistakable as he stood in the kitchen doorway with a sheaf of paperwork for Fury in his hand, slippers on his feet, and his trusty fluffy pink robe hanging loosely over his chest. 

  


"We had a good teacher." Natasha told him, the love in her voice unmistakable. She surveyed him carefully for a second before frowning. "Speaking of concern for your teammembers, Coulson, that robe hangs a bit more loosely off your frame lately. Have you been eating?" 

  


"Not as much as I should be," Coulson confessed, "but we have a week off after this briefing, actually--Fury needs to re-assess the Initiative with the addition of Cap and the new enemy in Loki. Especially since he's, you know, Thor's brother." 

  


"Oh, thank god." Natasha said. "Can we come home and sleep, then?" 

  


"You clearly don't think ahead far enough." Clint teased, snuggling in between the two of them as Coulson made his way over to the coffee machine. Coulson just rolled his eyes and nuzzled Clint's cheek before pouring himself a cup of coffee. 

  


"You're thinking ahead by about eighteen hours, Clint." Coulson promised him. "After those eighteen hours, though...well, considering none of us have had an actual day off in three months..." 

  


"Well, yeah." Clint said. "That's why I started bringing anal beads to work." 

  


It was completely worth saying that, just to watch both Coulson and Natasha, his oh-so-unflappable lovers, choke on their coffee. 

  
...

"Tony..." Pepper gave him a careful look as he went to leave the house. Steve was already in the car; it was just the two of them, as it had been from the start. Tony blinked, confused. 

  


"Yeah?" He asked, a bit of worry creeping into his heart. Pepper didn't normally give him that look. That wasn't just her normal exasperation; that was real worry and concern. 

  


"Tony, Steve..." Pepper swallowed. "I don't know what Fury wants. But you can't let him leave, Tony. For...for both your sakes'." 

  


"Pep, you know me. You know I'll fight him to the skin of my teeth." Tony flashed her a quick, reassuring grin, that did nothing to reassure either of them. "...So, about...what about both our sakes?" Tony asked, going right after the unspoken, awkward question. 

  


"He's _alive_ when he's with you." Pepper said simply. "Like he's content with his place in the world. For someone who just got catapulted about _seventy years_ into the future, that means a lot. You're his only key to understanding the world that everyone expects him to save; you and your tech and who you are, and--and he loves it. He loves being with you, Tony. He'd _die_ if they took you from him." Pepper said, her voice fierce while Tony's heart thumped insistently against his chest at the realization that she was right--and the terrible, burning desire to keep that from happening. 

  


"And you, Tony...oh, you, Tony..." Pepper hugged him tight and shook her head. He felt her tears on his skin. He didn't tease her for it, though. 

  


"He gives you what I never could. A safe place. A warm place. Someplace soft and always there; a way to tether yourself to reality before you lose yourself in the reactor and that damned suit." Pepper told him. "He could be the guiding light in your life, if you let him. Heaven only knows you need one." She smiled. "Tony, you've never been happier in your life these past few days, have you?" 

  


"No," Tony said, his voice soft and hoarse as he recalled the scant few days he had spent with Steve, realizing with a slow, glowing epiphany that lit up his whole mind that he could easily spend the rest of his life that way, with him, "no, I haven't. Pepper--" 

  


"He's everything you _want_ , and all that you _need_ \--even the sort of needs you don't know you have, Tony." Pepper told him. "And you always get what you want, don't you?" 

  


"Yeah." Tony grinned and hugged her tight. "Pep...thanks. For everything. But especially this." 

  


Pepper didn't really know what to say, so she hugged him tight. 

  


"I love you, Tony." She murmured. "And now? So does he." 

  


Tony pulled away and gave her a quick peck on the cheek before heading downstairs without another word. That was fine with Pepper--she understood. She always did. 

  


Downstairs in the garage, Steve looked at Tony, concerned. Tony seemed like he was either about to burst into tears or have some kind of anxiety attack, and it worried him... 

  


"Are you okay?" He asked. "Tony...?" 

  


"Better," Tony murmured, "I have you, don't I?" 

  


Steve blushed, but he was smiling, clearly pleased. 

  


"I feel the same way." He mumbled, closing his eyes and sinking into the seat. 

  


They drove out of the garage without speaking, but Tony's free hand left the wheel and came to rest on Steve's, where it remained for the rest of the trip. 

  


It was only once Tony was pulling into S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters that he let go before turning and looking right at Steve. His eyes were fierce, and his jaw was determined and set. 

  


"If this is what you want--if you want to stay with me--I swear to god, Steve, I'll fight him. I will fight Fury to the ends of the earth if I have to--I won't let you go." Tony shuddered. "I don't know how I'm going to get you to stay, but I won't let anything else happen--if that's what you want." Tony swallowed. "So, is that..." 

  


"That's everything I could ever want, Tony." Steve said gently. "Of course I want to stay." Steve's hand squeezed his. "And you _won't_ fight alone. That's why we're on a team." 

  


Tony just nodded, unsure if he could even open his mouth to speak without turning into a blubbery, incoherent mess. Fortunately, Steve opened the car door and got out, opening the door for Tony and helping him out as they headed inside, saving Tony from having to either strangle his emotions into submission or kiss Steve. 

  


  



	10. The Office and Its Inhabitants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick Fury has a scary office. Maria Hill is a clever woman. Bruce and Thor talk over a game of chess. Drama gets dragged out for the sake of cliffhangers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is short because honestly I really just want to tease you all with the conversation. That is legitimately the only reason. Sorry, guys, but your woes are my lifeblood! At least in the context of the fic.  
> Ooo Nick Fury, scary man. Though, I emphasize right now--he is not a villain. Not strictly, anyway.  
> Seriously, for those of you that will end up reading the wedding fic, (which I did indeed put up!), let me tell you; two different people. Beyond two different people--I am essentially writing Samuel L. Jackson somehow becoming a secret agent for this fic. I can't not do it. And admittedly, Movie!Fury is much more of a magnificent bastard than Comics!Fury...still. I keep expecting Vince Vega to show up and take Fury out for breakfast.  
> P.S. I love Maria Hill too and would love if she showed up in Iron Man 3. Bethany Cabe, too? A girl can dream.  
> Thor and Bruce talk! More ranting and feels! Poor Bruce. You're not a weapon, your ragebeast alter ego is. And no, for the record, Thor doesn't know about Loki's return yet, in case I wasn't clear.  
> That's about it! Update tomorrow, with a bit more resolution. Hope you all like this one, though, too! Thank you so much for reviewing and commenting and...kudosing? I'm verbing that. Kudosing. It means a lot to me. ^^

Within S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, the team had already started to assemble. Bruce had moved in temporarily to keep Thor company, and as such, had roped him into learning chess as well. Thor liked the idea of fighting with the pawns, but didn't quite grasp the basics; that was fine, though. Bruce was used to no one on the team knowing how to play chess. 

  


Still, it gave the two of them time alone, and more importantly, time to think. The meeting today had given them quite a lot to think about, as well; so it was with careful consideration that Bruce looked up from the chess game and raised the question to the god sitting across from him. 

  


"Thor..." Bruce sighed. "Are you worried about the meeting?" 

  


"For my shieldbrothers' sake, yes." Thor told him, moving a pawn across the board as he spoke. "Fury is not an unkind man. But it is Captain America. He is an emblem of hope to Midgard. And I suppose...there are qualms against the two of them..." 

  


"What, being in love?" Bruce snorted. "It's bullshit, Thor. What Nick really has a problem with is that he likes having control. Tony? Tony is the opposite of control. And if Steve goes to Tony, then Nick pretty much loses control on him, too. It isn't about what Tony wants, or what would do them both a world of good--it's about the control Nick can exert over the Avengers." He laughed darkly. "Believe me, if it was about who we fucked, Clint, Natasha, and Coulson would be in a hell of a lot of trouble."

  


"But...the only way for Tony to be controlled in any way is to be beside Steve." Thor said, confused. "After all, did you not see the way Steve handled him last night? That is something that I believe only the captain can do." 

  


"I bet," Bruce agreed, "but I told you; Nick doesn't care about that. He doesn't want Tony controlled by Steve; he either wants both of them in his control, or, in the case of Tony, spiraling out of control, so long as he answers entirely to Fury. Take it from someone with experience, Thor--all they want is a weapon. They don't care about the person..." Bruce frowned. "We just...have to be there for them." 

  


"Of course," Thor responded, "beyond the shadow of a doubt. Shall we make our way to the meeting room then, Bruce?" 

  


"Yeah." Bruce said, pushing himself up off Thor's bed and making his way out into the hallway. "Just...just take Mjolnir with you. Just in case." 

  


Thor did as he asked, and the two made their way down the hallway together, quietly and with plenty trepidation afoot. 

  


...

Further within S.H.I.E.L.D., there was an office. It was familiar to most members of the agency, but very few of them every enjoyed setting on across its threshold. After all, Nick Fury's office, while nondescript and almost spartan in its cleanliness and decor, still held the definite feel of the man--a sense that the person who occupied this room could dispose of your body and purge the remnants your existence from all known records as easily as he made himself a cup of coffee in the mornings. 

  


As such, while everyone knew of the office and the myriad ways to get there from any part of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, no one particularly liked to speak of it, as if they need only to speak the words "Nick Fury's office," and behold, it would be there behind the next door they opened, like an office-styled Bloody Mary. 

  


The only person who spent any significant time in there beside Fury himself was Maria Hill, whom was widely presumed as dangerous and possibly insane as the man himself among the agents, if not more so. Fury was efficient, clever, and ruthless; Maria, perhaps specifically because of her slight size and wide, innocent face, was doubly so. It was a guarantee that if he was not in his office, then she was, and as such, the other agents avoided it like the plague whenever possible. 

  


Still, everyone calls at least one room home, and the two people who did indeed call this room home--or at least a sanctuary of sorts--were both residing in it presently, but only for awhile longer. They had a meeting soon. A discussion was needed before that meeting, however, and that was exactly why Nick was fixating Maria with a careful, considering gaze as he folded his hands on his desk. 

  


"I've never quite felt like this, Hill," Nick remarked, surveying the office and all its contents before shooting a glance at his second in command, "you know--as if I'm the villain." He chuckled and shook his head. "It's an interesting feeling, y'know--doing good while being reviled." 

  


"Sir..." Maria sighed. "You aren't being the villain here. All we're doing is a re-assessment of the inherent benefit or detriment to Rogers residing with Stark. The decision you make will be the best for all of the Avengers." 

  


"You're so sure of that?" Nick said, and for once, he sounded geniunely surprised. Maria nodded. 

  


"Of course, sir," Maria told him, sounding almost amused, "I trust you." 

  


Nick nodded in acknowledgement before abruptly changing the subject. Maria was used to those abrupt changes by now, so she just listened quietly. 

  


"We both know Tony needs to be controlled." He began. "Stark is a loose cannon; it's in his nature. He's not a team player by default. Hell, he's not a team player, even when he's got to be. It's not to be a hindrance; it's just who Tony is." He frowned. 

  


"Rogers, however..." Nick murmured. "I don't know what to do about Rogers. That boy is a wild card--for both myself and Tony." He tsked. 

  


"There's a irony in it; the military captain, trained to obey orders and listen to his superiors ends up being the hardest to control." Nick shrugged. "It's the morality thing. I have a feeling Rogers' morals are in turmoil right now--it's the future, after all, and he's still dealing with that--but..." 

  


"But you think that his moral compass won't allow him to leave Stark." Maria filled in. "With all due respect, sir, I don't know about that; it's not that Stark doesn't listen to his moral compass in as much as it seems he was born without one." She muttered. Nick chuckled at that. 

  


"Well, it's not particularly about Stark's morals--or lack thereof--in as much as it's about Rogers'. He probably knows what a broken little man Stark is by now. He's a very empathetic boy, and good with people. He's a good man, Maria, and that means he knows Tony isn't--and wants to change that." Nick folded his hands together and frowned. 

  


"Question is, now, if I can have him do that." He murmured. "If Rogers really works a number over Stark--if, against all odds, he gets Tony to not just behave, but to actually change himself for the better--then just how much control do I have over Stark? He'll be beholden to Rogers, after all." 

  


Maria tilted her head and pursed her lips. She didn't say a word to him for a few minutes. Nick let her be--he knew she was considering something important. He knew when to listen to his subordinates. 

  


"Then make Rogers beholden to you." Maria said quietly. "Let him stay with Stark. Make him think he owes you a debt. Then, if and when he deals with Stark, he answers to you. And then, as such, so does Tony." 

  


Nick paused. Then he nodded slowly, the idea dawning across his face as he grinned, delighted. 

  


"...Commander Hill, have I ever told you there's a reason you're my second in command?" Nick said, looking at her with geniune respect in his eyes. Maria grinned despite herself. 

  


"I believe it's my tactical skill and deft handling of superhuman situations within the government, sir, but I'm sure my flawless coffee-making skills factored in somewhere." She told him. "Plus, who else could you have tolerated?" 

  


"True." Nick agreed. "Still. I think that's going to be the plan for awhile. We'll see how that pans out...and when it seems like the situation's changing, we'll make our move." 

  


"Affirmative, sir." Maria agreed. "I'll begin drawing up the paperwork to ascertain that Rogers will continue to live with Stark." 

  


"Thank you, Hill, but that can wait," Nick said, as he stood up and made his way out of the office, towards the meeting room, with Maria following loyally behind, "since I do believe you'll want to be present for this meeting..." 

  
...

Coulson, flanked by Clint and Natasha, was the first one to arrive. Nick watched them, slightly impressed. Despite three hours of sleep, not a hair was out of place, his suit was neat and crisp, and from the looks of it, he had either brushed Clint's hair and dressed him, or Barton was getting better at being neat, because the other two agents looked impeccable as well. 

  


"Sir." Coulson greeted him, sitting down on his left. Clint and Natasha sat beside him, not speaking. Coulson glared at them both. They just huffed. 

  


"Forgive them, we're all running on three hours of sleep, and neither of them are happy about it." Coulson apologized. 

  


Natasha grumbled underneath her breath, but a quick glare from Coulson silenced any protests. Nick just nodded. 

  


"It's understandable, Agent, but I hope they'll be better-rested after the end of this week." Nick frowned, observing the door. "Are Bruce and Thor--" 

  


"Hail, Fury." Thor said, his normal jovial tone completely watered down. Bruce just crept in behind him. Coulson stared at the two of them, stunned. He didn't say a word, but worry was written over his face, clear and plain as day. Under the table, Clint, who was closer to him than Natasha, squeezed his hand. 

  


"Ah, so they are here." Nick said. "It's just a matter of Rogers and Stark, now..." 

  



	11. You Gotta Fight For Your Right (to Tony Stark)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony are devoted beyond measure. Coulson would go up against his own agency to fight for the Avengers. He takes his job as their nanny very, very seriously. Thor is worried about Loki. Fury is devious. Tony gets his chance to defend Steve, thereby making plenty childhood fantasies come true within the span of one lecture during a meeting. The two are very much in love, and it is very much obvious, except, of course, to Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to stop updating so late at night. I'm just so sorry. Ugh. I just have so much stuff to do, but fuck it, this deserves to be updated! If only putting in the tags wasn't so goddamn tedious...  
> Anyways, Steve is perfectly capable of both physical and verbal beatings on Tony's behalf, but Tony's been waiting for this moment for a very long time. He's dreamed of this day, to be honest, and practiced his impassioned defenses perfectly. Steve will get his time to shine, I promise. It's a big point later on, in fact.  
> So, Coulson. I cannot express properly how much I love Coulson--his persona, his character, his temperment, etc--and his utter and complete devotion to the dysfunction junction that is the Avengers and co. He considers those heroes his, and he will take care of them, come hell or high water. He takes his position seriously as hell, and honestly, I don't think he'd know what to do with himself if the Avengers weren't around.  
> ...Writing all that makes me want to post that Clint/Natasha/Coulson prequel more. Woops. I need to work on that more, I hate having something 1/4th done and putting it up. Too unfinished to make it certain I'll continue, and I wouldn't abandon you with a half-done WIP.   
> Anyways, Fury is devious, not evil. I swear. And as for Loki, well--Loki, oh Loki. You'll have to wait to see him in action, I think. And yes, a bit of worry from Thor, who also, at this point in time, is unaware Loki is a Jotun. Fury knows but he's not telling.   
> Anywho, fluff and BAMF moments and things. I hope everyone loves this chapter! I love all of you and your comments and kudos and the like. <3

Steve made his way down the hallway with his heart in his throat. He was frightened. It was...strange. He had never felt that way before--not this kind of all-consuming fear that seemed to be tearing him apart from the inside out. But the more he felt that fear, the more he got...angry. 

  


He didn't want to be angry. But they were taking Tony from him. They wanted to take Tony away, just because...because, well, he didn't know! Because they were bullies, really. Bullies who wanted to control him and Tony. Well, Steve had spent plenty of time fighting bullies before, and he would be damned before he let one lay their hands on Tony, regardless of the day or age he found himself in. 

  


Steve glanced back at Tony. He looked calm, to the average person, but Steve could already read Tony's emotions and expressions. Tony was panicking as much as he was, and Steve knew it. 

  


He inhaled slowly. As willing as he was to fight whoever he needed to so that he could keep his Tony safe, he was just as willing to protect Tony and shield him from his troubles. So he hung back and waited a little, so he and Tony were side by side. 

  


"You're going to be okay." Steve murmured. "I'm going to protect you, I promise. They won't take you away from me." He smiled. "Don't forget, Tony. We're a team." 

  


"I know, Steve." Tony replied. "Seriously, I'm fine." 

  


"You don't look it." Steve whispered. "I know you, Tony. You don't "do" fine. If you're hurt, or you're scared about this...it's all right. But I just want you to know I'm going to be here for you." He shook his head. "You don't even have to say anything. Just know that the second we go in there, I'm going to have your back." 

  


Tony nodded, closing his eyes. He didn't know what to say. Steve had already said it all for him. 

  


"I've got your back too," he promised, "and things will be all right. We're going to stay together." 

  


The smile Steve gave him as they reached the meeting room door was more than enough of a response for Tony. With that warming him from the inside out, he steeled himself and opened the door, coming in with Steve by his side. 

  


...

As he watched them come in, Nick's breath caught in his throat for an instant. He quirked an eyebrow, not willing to let the surprise show on his face. 

  


Tony had changed. Where there had once been a callous, eccentric playboy in the guise of a genius inventor that made up the sum of all of Tony Stark's parts, the man that walked into the room in front of Steve--like a shield, Nick thought, unable to keep from making the comparison--and strode right past him, still shielding Steve with his very presence, the briefcase in his hand yet a further reminder of what he could do...the man that was doing all this was not the Tony Stark that he had known. 

  


_So Rogers got to him already_ , Nick thought, and while it was true, it was clear that whatever Steve had done to Tony, the change had been mutual--for indeed, the captain had changed. 

  


Where there had been once a sweet, unassuming, and very confused boy--because regardless of how old he was, Steve was still a boy in a man's body, at heart--there was now a determined, clear-headed, and strong young man sitting in the seat across from him, chin up and looking right into his eyes, one hand on his shield and the other on Tony's shoulder. Steve was still a good man--Nick suspected that would never, ever change--but he was willing to go to blows with him to be with Tony. 

  


Nick tried not to smile, amused. He didn't even think either of them knew it--that was the best part. Steve certainly didn't. 

  


Looking at the two of them, practically overflowing with emotion and steeped in love, Nick was actually pleased that his decision making had come out the way it had. Watching this courtship was going to be very interesting... 

  


"I called this meeting for a number of reasons," he began, "not the least of which is that we've been following Loki for a number of days now, and may have a bead on him." 

  


Thor's hands were shaking. Nick pressed on, heedless. 

  


"He'll be brought back here, of course, and from there on, I'll see how we deal with him. At the very least, we need to know what his plans are, and gauge how much of a threat he is to us. This, fortunately, does not require any of you; while you are all capable fighters, this requires stealth and spywork that most of you, save for perhaps Romanov, have little skill in." Nick told them. "Regardless, Loki will be brought back to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters--and after we have gauged his threat levels, you will, of course, be allowed to speak with him, Thor." 

  


The god relaxed, visible relief clear across his face. 

  


"Now...as for the next part of this meeting...I assume we're all aware of the addition of Captain America to our ranks." Nick began, his voice bland and level. Tony's eye was developing a twitch. His fingers closed over the handle of the briefcase. Steve just gripped his shield tighter. 

  


"And, since we all seem to be aware of that," Nick continued, "I assume we are all aware of Stark's apparent desire to have Cap reside at his New York mansion--and my apparent fight to keep that from happening." He added. 

  


Tony stood up and slammed his hands on the meeting table, the sound ringing out like a door slamming in the silent room. He knew Steve had said he would take care of him. But Tony was sick of having everyone take care of him. Just once, he wanted to be the one to fight for Steve. And he _would_

  


"Damn it, Fury, I said I'd fight you on this the day I met Steve, and I _meant it_!" He yelled, his hazel eyes alive with a fire the likes of which Steve had never, ever seen in Tony's eyes. "You can't bring him back here! I won't let you! You don't--you don't control Steve!" 

  


Fury raised an eyebrow, interested. He would let this play out. Perhaps Tony would slip--reveal something. 

  


"Do you think you do, Stark?" He asked. 

  


Tony snarled, his hair falling into his eyes as Steve shrunk away from him, just a little. Nick didn't blame him. The engineer usually seemed too easygoing or inattentive to be angered, but when he was--it was a sight to behold. 

  


"No, actually, I don't," Tony snarled, "because I am _nothing_ like you and your group. I know that the only one that can control Steve is Steve himself." He snapped. "But I also know the truth, and that's that he _knows_ what he wants--he wants to stay with me! And I will make sure he gets what he wants, damn it!" 

  


The entire room was silent for a few minutes, save for the insistent whirr of the arc reactor and Tony's heavy breathing. Nick did not say a word, face impassive. Everyone else just stared. 

  


"Is that true, Captain?" Maria finally spoke up, focusing on Steve and looking him in the eye. Steve swallowed. Of all the times to freeze up talking to a beautiful woman, he prayed fervently that this wouldn't be one of them. 

  


"Y-yes." Steve said. "I want to stay with Tony. Please. I don't know how S.H.I.E.L.D.'s run--I don't know how the government's changed, I'm sorry--but Tony is...Tony is helping me. And I'm helping Tony. And I might not know the government, but I know how teams are run, and this is a good way to do it." He nodded. "Please let me stay with him, Director Fury." 

  


There was silence in the room for a long time after that. A look from Steve had Tony sitting down and glaring up at Fury, daring him to say no, his hand still on the suitcase like a grenadier with their hand on the pin. 

  


"...Well," Fury began, keeping his face neutral despite the feeling of triumph welling up in him, "I think it's a bit against our protocol, and a stretch of the rules--but this seems to be a situation that calls for it." 

  


Steve watched Coulson's face for a second--disbelief flickered across it, and then, for a second, anger, but it was gone as fast as it had shown up. 

  


"So, in light of that," Fury continued, "I think it's best if you remain with Stark for the time being, Cap. After this week, I expect a report on how things are continuing, however. Does that sound fair?" 

  


Relief and delight washed over Steve's face like the sun over a crashing wave. He nodded happily, a geniune smile spreading across his face. Tony didn't say a word, but the emotions crossing his face as he looked over at Steve said more than any words could have told Fury about Tony's current emotional state. 

  


"U-understood, Director." Steve said, schooling his expression and saluting him. Nick just nodded. 

  


"I figured you would understand." Fury told him. "Now, you'll all be on call if I need you, but your presence at briefings for this week is unrequired. I expect you'll use this week to train and prepare for the new threat that might face us, and to get yourselves in order." He adjusted his eyepatch and put his coat on. "Dismissed." 

  


Steve bolted from the room with Tony in tow so fast that he didn't see Coulson staring venomously at the retreating backs of Maria and Nick. Everyone else on the team, however, did. 

  


"...Phil, honey?" Natasha ventured hesitantly, as she watched Fury shut the door behind him. "Phil, what's going on?" 

  


"Breach of protocol my _ass_ ," Coulson breathed, the normally mild curse seeming like the filthiest swear imaginable coming from their unflappable guardian, "that was--that was a manipulation of Steve's emotions, plain and simple--this has Hill all over it, that--" 

  


" _Phil_!" Clint snapped. "Could y'just fucking explain what's going on? I understand about jack and shit right now, and your ranting isn't helping!" 

  


"Sorry, sorry." Coulson apologized quickly, aware he had the attention of not just Natasha and Clint, but Bruce and Thor, as well. He inhaled. 

  


"Sorry, guys, but do you think you could stay for a little after-meeting discussion?" He asked. "They don't have surveillance cams in the meeting room. Sensitive information and all. So we're safe here." He explained. They all nodded.

  


"Of course." Bruce said. "Thor and I are heading back to my temporary apartment for the time being after this--I don't have any major projects going on...so, what's the problem?" 

  


"The problem is that I know Fury's playing some kind of game," Coulson began, "but I don't know what. Look--speaking as a guy who knows the S.H.I.E.L.D. playbook from cover to cover, it _isn't_ a breach of protocol for that sort of thing to happen--hell, Clint, Nat, and I have been sharing an apartment since we were all assigned to this sector, which was designated to us by S.H.I.E.L.D. itself--so..." 

  


"So he speaks lies." Thor said, and the venom in his voice made them all wince. Coulson nodded carefully, aware of the kind of ground he was treading on right then and there. 

  


"Sort of. While _Steve's_ situation is unprecedented, team members cohabiting _isn't_ \--which means Fury's up to something, and those two are caught in it." Coulson inhaled sharply. He could feel his hands shaking, and his heart thudding in his chest as he looked out over the table at the Avengers--his Avengers. God, he loved them. He would do anything for them. And he knew they would do the same. Even if it meant going up against Fury. This went beyond S.H.I.E.L.D. now--this was them, as a team, as _family_. 

  


"I don't know what's going on. But I do know that you are all my responsibility, and damn whatever the Director says--I take care of you. You are _my team_ , not his, and you are each others' team as well. Which means we need to keep an eye on Steve and Tony--Steve especially." Coulson sighed, the energy within him becoming more tempered and measured as he began to think. 

  


"I have a feeling this all comes down to Steve in some way. You know him; he's sweet, naive, and completely able to be manipulated by someone like Fury. Fury's in authority; Steve's a soldier at heart. That means whatever Fury's doing involves manipulating Steve, which means we need to keep a close eye on him." Coulson ordered. "The mansion Stark owns is huge; I'm sure he wouldn't mind us popping in for daily visits..." 

  


"Probably not." Bruce agreed, a small smirk on his face. "Three people and an AI in one big house can get awful lonely." He sighed and ran a hand through his curls, shaking his head. "I know how the government works and all, but this...this seems cruel. It's Captain America. Manipulating him is like strangling a bald eagle and grinding its intestines into an apple pie meant for Stalin, or something." 

  


"...Colorful metaphor." Clint said, a smile tugging at his lips. Bruce laughed. 

  


"I try." He said. "Seriously, though--we'll just play it safe; don't make it public that we're keeping tabs on both Fury's goings-on and Steve and Tony. I've got an excuse to spend time around Tony--the lab, remember? I'll go down there at some point and see what's up. Coulson, you're the one closest to Fury--" 

  


"I'll keep an eye on him and Hill, yeah." Coulson agreed. "Clever, doctor." He inhaled slowly. "Okay. Let's just see how this week transpires, and make a plan from there." 

  


"Sounds good to me." Natasha agreed, covering a yawn with her hand. "Then again, so does a nice long sleep--so how about we get that started, first?" 

  


Coulson smiled and stroked her hair. 

  


"Okay." He agreed. "Avengers, dismissed. I'll talk to you all tonight." 

  


The whole group dissipated, heading off for home. As they made their way out to their own cars, they noticed, unable to stop the smile of amusement, that Tony and Steve were currently tearing up the highway in Tony's sleek, cherry-red Corvette, cheering with triumph. 

  
...

The car ride home was fast and joyous. Tony could have cried from sheer joy, but thankfully, the sight of Steve, the simple reminder that he was there and with him, and would be forever, maybe...that was enough. That was more than enough. He wasn't even sure if his heart could handle all this. Steve seemed to have the same sort of feelings, considering he hadn't stopped grinning and hugging Tony's briefcase, as if it had won the fight for them, since he got into the car. 

  


"I get to stay," Steve whispered, and the delight in his voice sent a shiver up Tony's spine, "I get to stay with you..." 

  


"Uhuh." Tony agreed. "Forever, if you want." 

  


"I'd like that." Steve mumbled. Tony just smiled and shook his head. He didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. 

  


"C'mon, c'mon--let's go break the news to Pepper and see what we need to get for your new room, okay? Do some quick shopping, and then if you're good, we'll go out to eat." Tony promised. 

  


Steve groaned and sighed dramatically about the shopping, but definitely looked pleased at the thought of dinner with Tony as the two sped off back to the house. 

  
...

The knowing smile Pepper gave them both confused Steve a little, but she seemed delighted that he would be staying. She hugged them both and, to his surprise, kissed his cheek. 

  


"You'll do fine." She comforted him. "Tony's a good roommate." 

  


"I intend on being a bit _more_ than a roommate, but whatever," Tony said, too overjoyed to care that he was blatantly flirting as he focused on dragging Steve upstairs, "fine endorsement, I guess, now come on, Pep, I need you to help me pick out stuff for his room." 

  


"Oh dear." Pepper said, sounding incredibly amused. "More shopping?" 

  


Steve whined. Pepper took that as a yes. 

  



	12. The Reactor and the Shield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has issues with the reactor. Actually, Tony just has a ton of issues everywhere, about everything. Steve is patient and loving and kind, and respects Tony's right to his own body. Tony waited for Steve for his entire life, which is kind of totally sad when you think about it too hard. The shield comes up. The two of them bond some more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the lack of updates yesterday! I didn't get home to eight due to school, life, and babysitting. Sorry, guys. Comics don't buy themselves, and I need all the spare cash I can get...  
> Anywho, so this chapter is--well, you know what, I honestly think if you just pick a chapter at random and go "Does Tony have feels in this one?" you have at least a seventy five percent chance of being right.  
> So Steve is the best boyfriend!  
> So Tony has PTSD and this has never been discussed and this annoys me about the movies! He was tortured for a pretty long time, movie! Suffered permanent damage and lost a friend to that, too! So, uh...can a fellow afflictee (is that the right word?) get a shout-out to Tony's depression and likely PTSD? I mean, Jesus. Especially considering what Obadiah did to him and the reactor--this will get brought up, because if there's one thing I can write from experience, it's having body image issues and trauma associated with others taking advantage of your body.  
> So, um, yeah. I got my angst and realistic stuff in your sweet fluff fic. Oops. I hope it's still a good fic anyway--this won't suddenly become grimdark, and I swear it ends on a good note, but...I can't ever write straight happy fic. Not for long, I can't.  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter a lot. It remains one of my favorites, for a number of reasons!

"So, I like blue, we're painting your room blue--Steve, light blue or dark blue?" Tony asked, running his hand over the walls. 

  


"Anything's fine." Steve murmured. "Tony, don't go out of your way, you don't have to--" 

  


"Sssh, I want to, now stop it, stop it..." Tony ruffled his hair, only stopping when Steve swatted his hand away and gave him a dirty look. Tony grinned in return. 

  


"You might not want me to, but I really do; and besides, you're going to be living here for the foreseeable future, you need to have a room you're comfortable with." Tony's grin got wider. "Of course, mine's already all made up, if you want to skip the shopping and just set up shop in mine..." 

  


"Tony!" Steve snapped, looking away. His face was red, and, to Tony's relief, he didn't look disgusted--just incredibly mortified. "Your room is your private space, I wouldn't want to intrude--" 

  


"Not really." Tony shrugged. "The only place I really consider private is my lab. And...and you're welcome down there, if you want." 

  


Steve perked up at that, looking at him eagerly. 

  


"You have a lab here, too?" He asked. "Can I see it? Please?" 

  


Tony looked around the room. Then he looked back at Steve, who was on the verge of pulling the puppy-eyes. He sighed. 

  


"Yeah, yeah." He muttered. "Pepper! Look the room over and try to find some stuff from the furniture shop. Get him an easel and a desk--you need somewhere to draw and paint, right?" 

  


"Yes please." Steve said politely. Tony rolled his eyes. 

  


"Don't say please, you make me look worse by comparison." He muttered. Pepper lightly ruffled his hair. 

  


"You _are_ worse by comparison, Stark." She told him, before turning to Steve and smiling as Tony sputtered behind her. "I'll get it done, Steve. Is there anything else you'd like?" 

  


"Uhm..." Steve shifted from foot to foot. "A radio, please? For the baseball games. I know all the teams are different, but..." 

  


"All right." Pepper agreed. "It's fine, Steve. I'll start calling the furniture shops immediately." She leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "Be careful in Tony's lab. He's being serious now; only two people aside from me are allowed in there..." 

  


"Oh!" Steve murmured. "That's very nice of him. I'll be sure to be considerate..." 

  


Pepper just nodded and ushered him out the door, grabbing her phone and starting her litany of calls as Steve met Tony halfway down the hallway. 

  


The two headed downstairs, Steve taking in the whole house--he really hadn't gotten a chance to explore, but they had a week off, so hopefully he could learn a little more about the house... 

  


"It's funny--for as much as I'm trying to get you used to the future, I think this house was built back in the thirties." Tony shrugged. "Sometime after dad moved here, anyway." 

  


"It's all right." Steve said gently. "It's nice to have a little reminder, at least. The past isn't bad, Tony." 

  


"Yeah, but you can't get trapped in it..." Tony shrugged. "Whatever. Lab's down this way--that spiral staircase on the left." 

  


"All right. Lead the way." Steve said. Tony brought him down the hall, only for Steve to slip past him and open the door, holding it for him. 

  


Tony raised an eyebrow. Steve smiled sheepishly. 

  


"...Uh...you first?" He offered. 

  


Tony covered his mouth with his hand to hide a small smile before nodding in agreement and heading down the staircase, Steve following behind him like an excited puppy. 

  


...

"JARVIS!" Tony called, making his way down the staircase and towards the clear glass door that was the real security for the lab. "I give Steve full permission to be down here. Print out the access code for him, will you?" 

  


" _Of course, Tony."_ JARVIS responded. Above the keypad, a little slot spat out paper. Tony ripped it off and handed it to Steve. 

  


"Keep an eye on this, all right?" Tony asked. He blinked, shocked, when practically a second after he had said it, Steve shredded the paper. 

  


"Steve, that's not keeping an eye on it. That's making confetti." He admonished him. Steve shook his head. 

  


"Better not to leave physical evidence of the codes." Steve remarked. "Besides, I already have it memorized; one-nine-six-five, right?" 

  


"...Uh...yeah." Tony said. "Yeah, you're good." 

  


"Didn't we have this conversation?" Steve said, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. "Serum means I memorize things easily." 

  


"...Okay." Tony agreed, shaking his head in amazement. "C'mon in." 

  


Steve followed behind him as Tony tapped in the code, the door sliding open for the two to step through. 

  


"It's not entirely straightened up yet, we only got here a few weeks ago, but hell, this place is never gonna be clean anyway--just be careful..." Tony trailed off as he saw Steve standing and gawping in wonder at the workshop. He smiled, amused. 

  


"You like it that much?" He mused, speaking more aloud to himself than anything. The question was low, throaty, making its way out of Tony's throat in the most seductive way possible. He couldn't help himself; the image of Steve, standing in rapt awe of the things he had created, a look of pure wonder on his face...it was the culmination of all of his childhood dreams. 

  


Tony had always just wanted to be wanted. But to have his need confirmed by, of all people, Captain America...that was just too much. 

  


He smiled again and shook his head. Validation. All he had wanted was validation--but more than that, he realized, as he saw Steve pick up the first Iron Man mask and hold it tenderly in his hands, as if he was holding a butterfly in his cupped palm, he had wanted someone to truly admire his work. To give it purpose; and thus, to give him purpose. 

  


As he watched Steve hold the mask, before murmuring, awed, "Tony, this is beautiful..." his heart swelled with the foreign sensation of self-satisfaction and the sense of being wanted, for the first time in his life. 

  


"Glad you think so." Tony managed to say. 

  


For a few minutes, something unspoken passed between them. Tony watched as Steve made his way around the lab, creeping about carefully, being sure to not step on anything that looked either breakable or liable to explode. Tony wasn't really paying attention to what he was looking at, per se--he was much more focused on the way Steve's body moved when he walked, or the way his legs flexed when he lifted his foot over something, gentle and cranelike, or the way his hands clenched something with care and the delicacy of an artist's touch. 

  


The focus on Steve and the way he moved, rather than what he was touching, made it so that Steve had essentially free reign to look at even the things Tony would have rather no one had ever seen. It was his luck that Steve's eyes would fall on it--of course they would, the man probably had some sort of sensors that indicated the presence of red, white, and blue anywhere in a room--and before Tony could try to stop him, Steve had picked up the shield had designed and was holding it in his hands. 

  


"...Tony..." Steve whispered. "Oh, god." 

  


Tony felt any possible dignity or worth he had falling away as Steve was faced with his obsession laid bare. 

  


"Uh, uh--oh, god, I--god, I'm sorry--do you even _want_ me to say sorry--" Tony immediately began tripping over himself with the most desperate explanations humanly possible, for once in his life entirely without a smooth retort. 

  


Steve just continued to stare at the shield. It was, of course, half-finished--but the emblem upon it was clear. The design was obvious. And it was pretty much the biggest sign that Tony was the world's creepiest stalker that he could have ever envisioned. 

  


"Is this one made of vibranium, too?" Steve asked, hefting it in his hands. Tony finally found a comfortable footing; engineering. Okay. This conversation could be about engineering. He knew how to explain that. It was his insane sexual and romantic obsession with a man he had thought long-dead or frozen up until about three days ago that he could not explain. 

  


"Not entirely, since it's so hard to obtain, but I know the Wakandan king after a few business deals with him." Tony explained. "T'Challa provided me with enough to synthesize a new vibranium alloy; we both think it's a fair deal, since now the Wakandans don't have to strip-mine as much of the vibranium, and as such, we have to buy less now, spending less money. Works well all around." 

  


"Okay." Steve murmured, looking over the shield. He frowned, examining the wires. "Isn't this a little high-tech?" 

  


Tony actually laughed. It was probably a terrible idea to do so, but, well, he was Tony Stark. "Too" high tech didn't actually exist as a concept in his vocabulary. 

  


"Steve, all I added was a retractable emblem and the ability to use radar to detect landmines or other threats." Tony explained. "It sends out a radar signal specifically designed to pick up weapons, or ingredients in the makings of weapons, and puts it on display here..." 

  


He tapped the star in the center of the shield, and a blue screen came up above it. Steve almost chucked the thing across the room in shock, but thankfully, Tony's reflexes were fast enough that he managed to grab the shield. 

  


"Steve, don't freak out. It's just an LCD display. Look." Tony tapped the screen. "See? No bombs, but it's picking up on the Iron Man armor. And the reactor." 

  


"...That is high tech!" Steve snapped. "What sort of world do you live in that LPD--" 

  


"LCD, Steve, liquid crystal display, it's very pretty--" 

  


"Whatever it is, it's high-tech!" Steve cut him off. Tony blinked, his heart plummeting. Being yelled, at he could live with. Being scolded by _Captain America_ , however... 

  


"Look, Tony, this is...uh. Really nice, I guess, but--why did you make it?" Steve asked. "My old shield works just fine. Don't need a new one." 

  


"...Well..." Tony sighed. "I...I, and you...and I thought, maybe, if you ever came back--dad used to tell me there was hope, since the serum would prevent any negative effects from being frozen or whatever...I thought if you ever came back...I could give it to you." Tony swallowed. "That I could be the one to keep you safe. Because I wouldn't want to lose you." He closed his eyes. 

  


"When my dad lost you...he went to pieces. You know that." Tony said. "I told you before. But it wasn't just that he had lost you--he blamed himself. For everything, really. For not having designed that plane with a better failsafe, for not having searched harder, for not having found you...for not having saved you. Dad lost it because he couldn't keep the one person he cared about safe." Tony shrugged haplessly. "I just...didn't want that to happen to me, either. If you came back, I mean." He swallowed. "I couldn't lose you. If I ever found you, like dad had said...I knew I would have to keep you with me. At any cost." 

  


The two of them looked at each other for a few minutes. Then, the shield still in his hands, Steve finally spoke. 

  


"Did I matter that much to you?" He asked. "I mean...no offense, Tony, but...I forget, sometimes, that I was gone. Not because the world hasn't changed, but because it's only been a few months, and--and I still haven't adjusted to the fact that people remembered me. That people, you know, believed in me." 

  


"You mattered to the whole world." Tony said simply. "But you mattered most to my father, I think. And he transferred that worshipful, all-consuming devotion onto me, really. I was basically taught from birth that you were the man everyone should aspire to be...that you were the hero my dad wanted to become." Tony closed his eyes and laughed. It was a bitter, dark laugh that made Steve's heart ache. 

  


"You were the one thing that made Howard Stark actually give a shit about life. Even I couldn't do that." He muttered. 

  


Steve stared at him, unsure of what to say about the complete and utter desolation on Tony's face. The scars from Howard's upbringing had yet to fade, and for a second, despite his love for his friend, Steve cursed him with the most vicious oaths he could muster. A good man would never have done this to his son. 

  


"Tony..." Steve said softly. "I'm sure your father...he..." He sighed. "Okay. Maybe he couldn't love you. I'm sorry, Tony. You deserved better than the ghosts of another man's past."

  


"It doesn't matter now, though, right?" Tony said, his eyes hopeful, even as they shone with the tell-tale sign of tears. "Because you're not a ghost. You're not the past. You're here. Right here, with me. That...that's all I was waiting for. All I wanted." 

  


He gestured vaguely to the shield. Steve didn't know what to say to such naked love and devotion, so he just listened. Tony had a lot to say, it seemed, and not a lot of people that cared enough to do it. 

  


"I had collections of things--books, toys, war memorabilia about you, and this was the prize of that collection. Because it wasn't just stories anymore. It was something I had made with my own two hands, and created, just for you. If you ever came back. It was...it was a gift." He looked away. "If you don't want it...I get it. But...yeah, Steve. That's how much you meant to me." 

  


The two looked at each other for a little while longer. Then Steve came a bit closer. Tony didn't so much as twitch. 

  


"I have a question." He said softly. Tony nodded. 

  


"Shoot." He said, his voice surprisingly hoarse. He licked his lips nervously--it did nothing to allay his pounding heart or twisting stomach. 

  


"...Weapons hurt you." Steve murmured. "I bet that's how you got the...the heart injury, right? Weapons." He shook his head, not waiting for Tony to confirm or deny it. "I'm just wondering if that's why you built it into the shield. So the same thing wouldn't happen to me..." 

  


"God, Steve..." Tony sighed. "I probably deserved to get blown up by my own weapons. I am that much of a self-centered asshole. But...you, no. No, never you. I put that in to keep you safe, yeah. I just...didn't want you to lose your heart." He chewed his lip. "It's okay if mine gets fucked up. It was pretty fucked up to begin with. But your heart...your heart is pure, and sweet, and, and _perfect,_ and--and I didn't..." He shuddered. "I didn't want you to end up with some stupid glowing gadget in your chest." 

  


Steve came closer. Close enough that he could touch the reactor. Tony tensed, his entire body on fire with the urge to panic and bolt. Steve didn't betray a single expression on his face. 

  


"No one deserves to get hurt." Steve said gently. "And you're not a self-centered...self-centered person." He finished lamely. Tony actually cracked a smile at that. 

  


"Your heart is fine, Tony." Steve continued. "It isn't about what's wrong with the physical organ--believe me, I should know, I had a hole in my heart when I was a kid--it's about what the person chooses to make out of themselves. Tony Stark, you have one of the best and brightest hearts I've ever seen." He said firmly. "And the arc reactor doesn't change that." 

  


Tony closed his eyes. He didn't say a word; he wasn't really used to unconditional acceptance and love. Steve understood. 

  


Hands were on his wrists, suddenly; a gentle grip, but one that kept him from bolting or thrashing. 

  


"Could I touch the reactor?" Steve asked softly. "It's beautiful. And it's a part of you that I don't think you've quite accepted, and maybe...I could help?" He offered. Tony swallowed. That was all he wanted. Acceptance of the hated machine in his chest. Steve could do it for him. Steve could save him, and make all his problems go away. 

  


But--but that _memory,_ the reminder of his touch--it would be too much, too fast, and he couldn't. Not yet. And oh, how Tony hated himself for it. 

  


"N-not yet." He whispered. "T-there's things--things I have to tell you, and--and I can't." He said helplessly. "I'm so sorry." 

  


"Don't be." Steve comforted him. "It's your body. You make the choice about whether or not anyone gets to touch it." 

  


"L-later." Tony promised, desperate for Steve to forgive him and be happy again. "I...have stuff I have to explain first." 

  


"Okay." Steve agreed. "Take your time, all right? Neither of us are in a big hurry." 

  


Then, god help him, Steve smiled at him, and Tony suddenly understood just how his face had sold over eighty million war bonds. 

  


"We've got all the future ahead of us, right?" He teased. 

  


Tony somehow managed to laugh with his heart somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. 

  


"Yeah." He said. "So, uh. It's getting a little late. Wanna go out to eat now?" 

  


"Sure." Steve said gently. "And, Tony?" 

  


"Yeah?" Tony asked. 

  


Steve picked up the shield and held it tight against his chest. 

  


"Thanks for the gift." He murmured. "It's one of the best I've ever gotten." He smiled. "Do you think we might be able to incorporate it into my main shield, though? I don't want to give that one up!" 

  


Tony wanted to sink to his knees under the weight of the greatest of his childhood dreams coming true and cry. Thankfully, his knees were made of stronger stuff than that. So he just smiled. 

  


"I can see about incorporating some of the tech in, yeah." Tony promised. "We'll worry about it later. Let's just focus on dinner." 

  


"Okay." Steve agreed. "Can I take it upstairs? I want to put it in my room, if that's okay." 

  


"Of course." Tony said, and the smile of gratitude Steve flashed him should have, quite frankly, been made illegal; all the skipping of beats his heart was doing was going to get him killed pretty soon. Maybe love was just heart palpitations. It would explain why he had no capability for it. 

  


The two made their way upstairs, Steve holding the shield in his arms, entirely unaware that he held Tony's heart in his hands. 

  


Tony understood, though. And it was enough. 

  



	13. To Serve and Protect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson is determined to keep his Avengers safe. God help you if you try to harm Tony and Pepper Potts gets wind of it. Everyone is just so sure Steve and Tony are in love that it's a little surprising to outsiders that they haven't just had full-on sex in front of everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about no updates, everyone. I've been a little busy, and considering a few things. I'm surprised at how little I actually have written for this fic--truth be told, at about 2.5k a chapter, I really eat up a lot of the story. I might switch updates to every other day, until I either finish or get more output. I've got a Big Bang going on as of right now and a few other things--I've just been so busy trying to micromanage everything that this fell by the wayside.  
> Anyways, Coulson is a badass, surprising absolutely no one, as is Pepper, which also comes as no surprise. Everyone is just really ready to take care of both Steve and Tony, it's so precious. Also I love how they all just assume they're in love. It's kind of amazing.  
> Not much else to say--this is a major rehash/recap/explanation chapter, which means a lot of explanation of things already discussed. I hope it's still enjoyable; I tried to keep everyone's dialogue convincing. And it sets the next part of the plot in motion, too!  
> Hope you all enjoy this chapter, and I'm sorry about the wait!

Tony and Steve were ready to go out to eat in ten minutes. Steve was wearing the casual clothes Tony had bought him, and, if Pepper had noticed him heading upstairs to get changed with the shield in his arms, she hadn't said a word. She had just ushered them out and told them where she had made reservations. 

  


Pepper watched them go with a small sigh of relief. She would have some peace and quiet now to make arrangements; Steve's furniture had to be ordered, they would need to fix up the guest room, and she was going to have to hunt down a vintage radio from somewhere...not to mention that Rhodey was coming over in two days and she needed to make sure he was still aware of this--Tony tended to just assume people would come when he called, and Rhodey was busy more often than not-- 

  


A knock came at the door. 

  


Pepper's gaze flickered over to the kitchen knives, stuck innocently in their wooden block. 

  


She went to answer the door, already feeling a definite twitch in her eye. 

  


Upon opening it, the twitch increased substantially. 

  


"...Evening, miss Potts," Coulson said, looking decidedly uncomfortable, "there's an incredibly long and convoluted story behind the fact that we're all here right now, and it requires explanation. Could we come in?" 

  


"...Just...don't let Thor touch anything." Pepper murmured. The rueful smile she received from him in response told her he understood that plea perfectly. 

  


"It's good to see you again." Natasha said politely, making her way inside. "Tony dragged you out to New York with him?" 

  


"Well, yes." Pepper said. "It was either that or he crashed and burned pretty badly, considering he doesn't know his own cell number, his PIN, his social security number, or, frankly, how to function like a normal adult. Consider me his IV drip." 

  


"That is a terrible and incredibly accurate metaphor, and I am truly, truly sorry." Coulson said, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. Pepper sighed. 

  


"Honestly, I don't think I'd know what to do without him, so the feeling is mutual." She responded. "Part of me enjoys this, in a terrible way." She gestured to the kitchen. "Go, sit. I'll order something. You look like you've got a story to tell." 

  


Her gaze sharpened with the flint knife of worry, and she stood a little straighter, her hands fluttering nervously at her sides. 

  


"Is Tony all right?" She asked, her voice hushed. Coulson nodded. 

  


"He's fine." He comforted her. "But there's some things you ought to know..." 

  


Pepper just went into the kitchen. They all followed behind her, unsure of how to start. Coulson did the best thing possible at the time and just dialed for pizza. 

  


...

Ten minutes later, with enough pizza to feed half of Little Italy, and enough crazy bread to at least keep Thor happy, the entire team sat at Tony's ragged, rough-hewn kitchen table, waiting for Coulson to explain. No one had told him to, of course, but they all knew he was the one who actually could explain it in an understandable manner. 

  


"So, you were aware Fury had issues with Steve staying here, right?" He asked her. Pepper nodded, giving him a look. 

  


"I was," she said, "but I know Tony was going to fight him." She frowned. "Did...did he lose? He didn't...seem like he had lost, but--there are times, with Tony, that he just hides everything, and..." 

  


"No, he won." Coulson said. "Sort of." He swallowed. "At least, he thinks he did. But Nick knows full well what he's doing, and it isn't any good." 

  


"Okay..." Pepper frowned again. "So tell me; what does Fury want, and why doesn't Tony know about it?" She asked. "He's an Avenger, he has a right to know what Fury's up to." 

  


"It's a bit more complex than that, and honestly, I wasn't there for this--but I know he was lying." Coulson told her. "I live with Clint and Natasha, despite us not only being on the same team, but a trio of partners, as well." 

  


"And we cohabit." Clint piped up helpfully. "Living in sin and all." 

  


"Clint, shut up." Coulson sighed, massaging his temples. For a second, a blush crossed his face, but it was gone by the time he looked back up. "...He's right, though; the point is, a relationship or cohabiting is not only _not_ prohibited, it's...actually encouraged." 

  


"It provides psychological and emotional benefits." Natasha explained. "So the problem here is that Nick made it sound like that wasn't the case, and he was doing Steve a favor by letting Steve stay...and you know how Steve is. You've only known him for a few days, and yet I am entirely sure it's obvious..." She frowned. 

  


"He is a good man." Pepper said quietly. "And he's a soldier, at heart, to top that off; if he thinks he owes his commanding officer like that..." She sighed. "So you're worried Fury's trying to manipulate him because he's cute and blond and a bit dumb. Understandable." 

  


"It isn't that he's stupid, it's that Fury seems to be five steps ahead of us on...something, and I'm worried." Coulson said. "I know you care about Tony. The thing is, both Steve and Tony are Avengers now, and that makes them my responsibility, too." He sighed. "I don't want either of them to end up hurt or dead because of some plan Fury has." 

  


"Understandable." Pepper said. Her lips were pursed into a thin, bloodless line, and her jaw was set. "I assume for the next week, you'll be in and out of here on a constant basis." 

  


"...Yes." Coulson said, nodding and giving her a look mingled with a bit of awe and a lot of respect. "Thank you, Ms. Potts, I knew you would understand. We won't all come at once and bother you, though." He managed a smile of amusement. "And I do intend to give the two of them their...space..." 

  


"You've noticed then, too?" Pepper said, amused. "I saw it the second they walked in. Tony's like an entirely different person with him around--a better one." She smiled. "It's nice to see him in love like this. It makes him a lot more human." 

  


"It's so sappy, though." Clint replied, rolling his eyes. "Steve this and Steve that, and he's just all soppy and he won't admit it, because he's the "great Tony Stark" or whatever." 

  


"You never said anything about us, either." Natasha piped up quietly, stirring her soda and letting the ice clink together. "Pride is a dangerous thing, but it's an understandable impulse. Tony does not want himself to become too vulnerable at this stage, even for Steve--after all, Steve is a product of his time period, which was rather critical of homosexuality. I don't blame him for not wanting to push the subject or even speak up about his affection for Steve any more than he is now." 

  


"Steve sure as hell doesn't seem to care about Tony constantly petting him or calling him precious." Clint muttered. "They're just being stupid." 

  


"Maybe so, but for awhile, the beginning, so is everyone in love." Bruce piped up, giving them all a look. "Especially someone like Tony. As much of a flirt as he is, this is serious for him, and that means he's got no clue what he's doing. They're both coming from a bad place on this, and they're going to be even more thickheaded than most people just starting out with love." He shrugged. "It's just a matter of them getting smart later on. They're clever, they will." He shook his head. 

  


"But that's not the point. The point is that the two of them are already inseparable, and Fury knows it. So...what does he want to do with it?" Bruce chuckled darkly. "Let me tell you something. I know all about being thought of as a weapon. To Fury, Steve and Tony are weapons, no more, no less; to make a weapon work, you need to know all its components and how to fit them together. Their attraction to each other is a vital component to the puzzle that is both Stark and Steve, and Fury knows that. It's why he's playing his game this way." He frowned. "But what does he want out of it? What does he gain?" 

  


"Tony's been more sedate." Pepper murmured. "Sleeping a bit more often. Eating. He's listening to Steve. And Steve loves him--he wants to take care of him. And thus, Tony wants to take care of himself..." She frowned. "So why would that bother Fury?" 

  


"Because it makes Tony Steve's." Coulson said, bringing the conversation back to him and his knowledge of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s inner workings. "Tony isn't beholden to Fury or his orders anymore, especially since Tony's never one for orders anyway. If, hypothetically, Steve fixes Tony--even a little--then Tony's healthier, mentally and emotionally, and he has a purpose in life. He won't be so quick to volunteer for suicide missions." Coulson sighed. 

  


"I know that feeling...so let me tell you from experience, in Tony's case, even if he's a loose cannon and a complete wreck, he's still under Fury's thumb and doesn't care if he dies--which is exactly what Nick wants." He frowned, considering another option. 

  


"But...if Steve fixes him up, makes him love himself a little, then he's got a reason to live. With Steve's authority and guidance, Tony will listen to his orders, because that's the pull Steve will have on him. He won't be under Fury's thumb anymore--he'll be leashed to Steve, who, obviously, is a little more lenient and gentle with his control." Coulson sighed and massaged his temples. "To separate the two, however, would be like trying to fix a broken arm by cutting it off. They'd both be miserable and far beyond his control, even. So...the other option..." 

  


"Is to make Steve listen to Fury." Pepper interrupted. "That's why he did this. So he could control Tony through Steve." Her lip curled back and she hissed softly in disgust. 

  


"I'm going to snap his neck." She said, with an air of forced calm. 

  


No one doubted her. 

  


"I advise against that." Coulson said, perfectly used to dealing with women who could and would break necks if needed. "But you're right. I think his goal is to manipulate Tony through Steve. It makes sense, if you look at it from a leader's standpoint; now you have both of them under your thumb and they're relatively happy. It's a win-win situation." 

  


"Except it isn't." Pepper said bitterly. "What happens when he asks Tony to do something that Tony just can't do--not without a cost to his soul, or his heart, or his life, because--I can't--I can't stand by and let that happen!" She snapped. "Tony's my responsibility too, agent, and even if this is for the best, I don't care!" 

  


"It isn't going to happen, Pepper." Coulson said gently. "Not as long as I'm taking care of the team. Tony will be fine. Safe. And, in the end, better off."

  


"...All right." Pepper sighed. "I have no reason not to trust you. I just have one more question..." She frowned. "How much do we tell Steve?" 

  


"Nothing." Coulson said. "Not right now, at least. Steve won't get it, and if he knows about this, he's a liability. Likely to slip up. The usual." He frowned and sighed, leaning on the table. "We keep an eye on the two of them and make sure Steve doesn't start getting too many orders straight from Fury. He might be in charge of the Initiative, but I have complete control of the forces. I can see to that." 

  


"...All right." Pepper agreed. "I'll be on call here if you need me." She gestured to the living room. "There's a TV in there. I think we all need to relax." She paused. 

  


"You're welcome to spend the night," she said, "as long as Tony doesn't strangle you." 

  


"Don't worry, we're the chaperones." Clint piped up, his mouth full of pizza. "Y'know, just to make sure he and Steve don't get up to shenanigans." 

  


"A useful and worthy role." Thor agreed. "I wore many a chaperone out back in the day when my brother and I were together." 

  


Being Thor, he didn't quite get the odd looks everyone else exchanged. But the thunder god, while a bit obtuse in the ways of man, was not stupid, and he had been listening to the entire conversation, perceiving it the way a warrior would. 

  


"...Son of Coul." He said. "If my shieldbrothers' safety is compromised due to Fury...what then?" He asked. "For then he is an enemy, and should we not treat him as such?" 

  


"It's...complicated, Thor." Coulson said. "We can't fight him outright. And to be honest, I don't think we'll have to, anyway." He stood up and put his hand on Thor's shoulder. "But...keep your hammer close, just in case." 

  


"All right." Thor agreed. "They are my shieldbrothers, I will do what I can." He brightened up. "But first, the Midgardian after-dinner ritual of television!" 

  


"Y'know," Clint began, as everyone made their way into the massive living room, "it seems like the only time we can all stand each other is when the TV's on." 

  


"Shut up and watch TV, Clint." Natasha chided him gently, ruffling his hair and perching on the couch beside him as everyone settled in. 

  



	14. Take My Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony talk in the garage. Tony pushes people away too often for Steve's liking, and he refuses to let it continue. Tony is stunned by the idea that someone might genuinely care about his wants and needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are again with another Tony Has Feels chapter! Well, so does Steve. But yeah, I would seriously change the name of this to Tony Has Feels were I not a "srs author" and also I like the word anachronism okay just go with it.  
> Not much to say about this chapter; it is essentially Tony and Steve talk in the garage and nothing else. But I really do think that Tony actively pushes everyone in his life away as much as humanly possible, which is the focus of this chapter. He just...it's not even to be a jerk. He just doesn't want other people around him because he doesn't think he deserves other people to be around. I just want to hug him for awhile because ugh, god. Tony.  
> Also; I still don't know how to mark this thing as incomplete, dammit. I've gotten a few comments about it, and I wish I could, but--I really cannot find where the hell I do that. If anyone could please drop me a line or comment as to how, I would be grateful. I'm sorry I seem so bad at this, but the truth is, I've only been on Ao3 for like two weeks. I definitely don't know what I'm doing. So if you do, and you're reading this--please tell me how to mark this as a WIP! I thank you in advance.

Tony smiled, amused, as Steve leaned on his shoulder and closed his eyes, groaning softly. 

  


"You know, you shouldn't have eaten the cheesecake," Tony chided him gently, "it's bad for you to eat too much rich Italian food." 

  


"You ate like three courses and two helpings of tiramisu." Steve whined. "Not fair." 

  


"Yeah, but I never eat, ever. This is like a rare treat." Tony reminded him. Steve grumbled. 

  


"You're going to start eating more," he warned him, "because I'm not going to let you hurt yourself by ignoring your needs." 

  


Tony shrugged. Steve growled softly. 

  


"Steve, it's just food." He reminded him. 

  


Steve glared at him, and it was only then that it hit Tony--oh, Depression. _Ouch._ No wonder Steve fussed so much... 

  


"It's never just food, Tony." Steve said, his voice soft and almost sad. "It's...you could--if you starve--" 

  


"Steve, honey, shush." Tony comforted him, the pet name slipping past the both of them unnoticed, a more important matter at hand. "I'm not going to starve. I promise." 

  


"But...but what if you _do_?" Steve whispered. "Please, Tony...I watched mom starve, and I...I can't, not with you, please...please eat." 

  


"Hey, hey...just, just calm down, okay?" Tony asked, trying to keep his voice soft and gentle. "Just relax, Steve. I promise, I...I..." 

  


Steve looked so distraught and lost that Tony suddenly wanted go out and eat until he burst, if it would _just make him happy_. He sighed. He was wrapped around Steve's finger, and he didn't even care anymore. 

  


"Okay, Steve." Tony replied. "I'll eat more. I promise." 

  


The smile he gave him then made the time he would lose on projects and work proactively worth it. 

  


"C'mon, soldier," Tony said, the mood considerably lighter, "let's go home." 

  


Steve was smiling the rest of the way back. Tony took pride in the fact that he managed to drink in that gloriously angelic smile and still managed to not to crash them both into a divider or stoplight. 

  


...

The two of them pulled into the garage and Tony turned off the car, stretching out in his seat before sighing and looking over at Steve. 

  


"You know what," he began, "to be honest with you, I haven't worked on anything in a day or two. Want to watch me in the lab?" He grinned rakishly and met Steve's eyes. "I could model for you, maybe." 

  


"Uh--uh..." Steve fidgeted in his seat. For a second, Tony was worried his flirting had finally gone a step too far. Then Steve grinned, delighted, and Tony relaxed, relieved. 

  


"Yes, please," he said, and Tony felt his heart skip a beat, (the arc reactor whirring in protest), and then added, "I'm really excited to draw the suits and all your machinery! I mean, it's just, like nothing I've ever seen, and...wow, you know?" 

  


Tony forced his heart to calm down and choked his excitement into submission as he nodded. 

  


"All right, then." He agreed. "C'mon. It's been a pretty hectic few days, and the chance to just sit and relax is honestly pretty welcome..." 

  


"That's good." Steve piped up as he got out of the car. "You don't relax enough, Tony. I think you need to work it into your schedule more." 

  


"Later, later." Tony said, fully aware that Steve wouldn't let this drop. "Let's just...let tonight happen. We'll worry about everything later." 

  


"...Okay." Steve said, but the look on his face spoke entirely of this conversation getting dragged out later. Tony just sighed. 

  


"You are my friend," he said, a twinge of guilt wracking his heart, "not my nanny. You don't need to worry." 

  


"Someone does." Steve replied. "And you clearly don't." 

  


Tony resisted the urge to slam his head against the car door. After _everything_ he had done to make Steve stop caring, after everything he'd told him about his sorry ass--which should've been enough--he still--he still, well... 

  


Tony sighed, helpless, depressed, and frustrated that he just couldn't shake the feeling that Steve wasn't going to be the type he could make leave simply by force of his own fucked-up state. 

  


"C'mon, Steve. In the house." He murmured. The defeat in his voice was faint, but it was there. Steve frowned and put a hand on his shoulder. 

  


"Tony, please don't be sad." He pleaded. "I just want to help. You want help, don't you?" 

  


"...I don't know." Tony said. "But if I do, it's definitely not from you." 

  


The hurt on Steve's face made Tony want to just rip out the reactor and die in his garage. He would do _anything_ just to make sure he never saw Steve look that way again... 

  


"Did I...did I screw up?" Steve asked, his voice soft and hesitant. "Tony, I'm really sorry--I didn't mean to, I promise I'll be a better friend, I--" 

  


"You did the exact opposite." Tony cut him off. It looked like his chance to get Steve to go before he hurt him--or, god forbid, Steve fixed him--was coming up, and fast. "You're too good for me, Steve. I don't want you caught up in this. In me." 

  


"Well, I _want_ to be." Steve said firmly. "Are you really going to stop me?" 

  


The two of them stared at each other for a few minutes. Tony tried to look away, but Steve's eyes, blazing harsh and bright and still such a clear, beautiful blue, were like magnets that kept pulling him back in. 

  


"...I don't think I know how." Tony confessed. "I don't know how I could stop you, Steve." 

  


"It's okay." Steve said. "Then just go with it for awhile, Tony. Just let someone help you. Just because they want to." 

  


"Why, though?" Tony asked. " _Why_ do you want to help _me_?" 

  


For a minute, he despaired of the answer; surely this was just to make sure Iron Man didn't go crazy in battle, or because he was the genius, the billionaire, the great and powerful Tony Stark, because that was the only reason _anyone_ had cared before, ever, and _why_ should anyone else start being different _now_ \-- 

  


"Because I really like you, Tony." Steve said, and he actually laughed a little, as if he was surprised Tony didn't know. Tony was too busy having his heart twist itself into knots to notice. "You're my friend. I just...really like being around you. And the more I stay, the more I want to help."

  


Steve offered his hand to Tony, his fingers spattered around the tips with paint; Tony felt a bit of triumph that Steve had been toying with the paint sets he had bought him. But the overwhelming feeling was a mix of confusion and hope. His hand was right there. He wanted him to take it. He...he wanted...what did Tony want, then... 

  


"So, the question is, Tony...will you let me?" Steve asked. "Will you listen to me, let me help you, and remember I really do just want to help? You won't push me away, will you?" 

  


He could've taken his hand, then. But Tony liked his own idea better. 

  


He hugged Steve tight, realizing vaguely how strange it was to be the shorter person in the embrace. He didn't mind too much, though. 

  


Steve stood there for a second, stiff with surprise; for a second, Tony panicked. Then he felt Steve's arms wrap around him, warm and comforting, and he relaxed, closing his eyes for a second. 

  


"...It's going to be okay." Steve murmured. "Tony?" 

  


"Mm?" He replied. Steve actually laughed. 

  


"I think we should probably go inside." He said, pointing towards the door and grinning sheepishly. "I told Pepper we were on our way home, and she probably heard us pull in; she'll be worried." 

  


"You figured out my phone?" Tony said, blinking in shock. "Huh. Congrats, I guess." 

  


"Thanks." Steve brightened up. "It's really easy, once you get used to it." 

  


"I'll buy you one." Tony told him. "Hell, I'll buy you twenty. C'mon, let's go inside, I'll see if I have a spare lying around until we can make it to the store." 

  


Steve just rolled his eyes and smiled, shaking his head as he followed Tony inside. He let the engineer babble, knowing Tony couldn't really communicate how much the promise Steve had made meant to him. It was all right. He had felt the warmth of the arc reactor against his chest, for a time, and that was enough to make him understand. 

  



	15. The Love You Take is Equal to the Love You Make

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is a good boyfriend even though they're not dating yet. Tony has feels has its own acronym now. Tony finally realizes people care. Clint watches garbage TV. Coulson is very good at arguing with Tony. Pepper knows where it's at, always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question; so, you would all be okay with a sex scene or two, right? I mean, I assume yes--this is the internet--but hey. To be honest, the idea of sex won't come up for some time yet, but I figured getting some early confirmation couldn't hurt.   
> Second, a quick shout-out to Gracelin, who is just so sweet and nice and always comments, and it really, really makes my day. Thank you so, so much.   
> Anyways--so, THF. Tony Has Feels is so commonplace it deserves its own acronym. Steve being a good boyfriend is commonplace too, but too long for an acronym, I feel.   
> Again, sorry about shoddy updates--I just got home a little while ago, and I've been all busy planning Valentine's day and working on my Big Bang. After that's all said and done, I'd be happy to put it up on AO3...but that won't be until April. Fear not! AatA will probably last until April! I write...I write a lot, you guys.  
> Hope you enjoy this chapter, update tomorrow in light of the three-day update wait.

Tony walked in only to hear the television blaring. His stomach sank into his feet and he tried not to scream. Only one person on the team watched garbage TV, and that would be...

  


"Barton," Tony began as he made his way into his living room, "what the hell are you doing in my house?" 

  


"Oh, that's right, single _me_ out." Clint said, taking a bite of his popcorn. "Pepper invited us over." 

  


"Don't blame Pepper for this, it was my idea," Coulson said, "and we decided, as a group, we should spend more time with you, Stark." 

  


"...You actually _want_ to be around me?" Tony raised an eyebrow. "What's with the sudden one-eighty, Phil?" 

  


"Would it make you feel better if I said we were just here for Steve?" Coulson snapped, rolling his eyes. "Tony, you act surprised that people want to be around you." 

  


"Well, there's a fucking _reason_!" Tony shot back. Steve stood behind him, quiet and considering. He was waiting for Tony to finish ranting, Coulson realized--clever of him, honestly. 

  


"Yeah, it wouldn't surprise me if you were just here for Steve, okay? I know I'm a jerk, whatever! I don't really _care_! And I don't know why the hell you all suddenly _started_!" He yelled. 

  


There was silence in the room for a few minutes. 

  


"Maybe they did this whole time," Steve said softly, his voice ringing throughout the hushed room, "and this is the first time you've ever noticed." 

  


Tony turned back to Steve, his eyes wild. Steve just looked at him. 

  


"...I'm going down to my lab." Tony said, turning away. "JARVIS is finally up and working. I have things to do." 

  


He made his way to the door. No one tried to stop him. 

  


"...Tony?" Steve asked. "...Do you still want me down there?" 

  


Tony paused with his hand on the doorknob. He closed his eyes for a second. 

  


"You know the code." He said. "Bring your sketchbook." 

  


Steve's face lit up. 

  


Tony disappeared from the room and into the hallway, where they heard the door open. Rather than being slammed shut, however, it was shut with a delicate click. 

  


Steve turned back to the others. 

  


"Um," he began, "I don't know if it's my place to say this...but you're all welcome here. I'm sure Pepper agrees, too, and we outnumber Tony, if it helps." He added, smiling. "But I'm sure he wants you here too. He's just...very tired right now." 

  


"You go to him." Pepper said, giving Steve a look. "You know what you do to him; just go calm him down, Steve." 

  


"...Do what?" Steve asked, confused. "What? What do I do?" 

  


Pepper tried not to either sigh, laugh, or groan. She just put her hand on Steve's shoulder, got up, and pushed him insistently towards the door. 

  


"You're good for him, Steve." She said. "That's all." 

  


"That's all I need, then." Steve said simply. "I'll make sure he gets to bed by eleven, Pepper." 

  


"Thank you, Steve." Pepper said. "We'll be up here if you need us." 

  


"All right." He said. He smiled, bowed, and kissed her hand before leaving the room, taking the stairs to head up to his room and get his supplies. 

  


Pepper put her hand against her chest, her face bright red. The whole room was quiet. 

  


" _Gaaay_." Clint murmured, a smirk on his face as he changed the channel. Coulson smacked the remote out of his hands and gave him a look. Clint just whined pitifully. 

  


...

Steve picked up his sketchbook, a few sticks of charcoal, and some pencils. He was completely fascinated by mechanical pencils, which Tony found completely amusing, and as such, had bought him fifty packs. Steve suspected he would never want for pencils again. 

  


He clutched his things against his chest and made his way downstairs again, the strains of the television echoing faintly throughout the house as he picked his way down the steps carefully, delicately trying not to make too much noise as he made his way down to the lab door and typed in the access code. 

  


The door swung open with a soft electric hiss, and Steve made his way in, still doing his best to remain silent. Tony didn't appear to notice him, already lost in the blueprints for one thing or another. 

  


"Tony?" Steve finally said softly, breaking the silence. He winced as he watched Tony jump, hitting his head on the hanging light above him. "Tony, I'm sorry...but, um...I'm here now." He murmured. "Do you still..." 

  


"You're the only person I want around here, to be honest." Tony said, his voice harsh. "You cared from the start." 

  


He closed his eyes and put down his pen. Steve stayed where he was and gave Tony his peace. 

  


"They didn't want _me_. They never cared about _me_. " Tony whispered, and there were years of loneliness and desperation in his voice as he hugged himself tight and closed his eyes to try to stave off tears. It didn't work. 

  


"The only reason they do now is because they think I'm going to hurt _you_..." His lips pulled back in a crude imitation of a smile. 

  


"Oh, god." He murmured. "If they only knew, Steve. I'd sooner rip the reactor from my chest than hurt you." 

  


"Tony..." Steve whispered, his heart pulsing in his ears again as he swallowed, aware of the sudden weight in his chest. He had to tell Tony something. Anything. 

  


"Tony, look..." Steve said, coming up close beside him, his eyes flickering over the length and width of Tony's desk. It was a mess, but it looked like Tony attended to that mess lovingly, and his heart twinged with empathy as he pulled up a chair and sat beside him. 

  


"Like I said before..." Steve began, "maybe they always cared. Maybe it's just not easy to see that when you're all locked up in here, working on the suit--another way to keep people out, right?" He murmured. "You don't actually see out of the eyes in the suit, do you? Just datafeeds. Whatever that tech does." 

  


"Steve," Tony warned him, his voice desperate and pregnant with despair, on the verge of cracking, "Steve, just stop, you--" 

  


"They _do_ love you. They want _you_. They _care_ about you." Steve murmured. "You _know_ that, Tony. But you weren't making it easy on them, and you know that too. But making life harder for everyone else was easier than making it better for yourself, right?" 

  


"Steve, just--just fucking _stop_ , you don't," Tony was cut off as Steve took his hands and squeezed them gently. It was all of his fantasies come true at once, and it took all of Tony's willpower not to lift Steve's hands to his mouth and kiss them. 

  


"Tony, ssh." Steve soothed him. "I'm not judging you or getting angry at you. I understand, Tony. I understand everything...even the things you think I can't know, because you think I'm perfect." Steve tsked and smiled. "Tony, I'm not perfect. I just want to help. I'm doing the best I can, that's all. That's all anyone can do." 

  


"So am I," Tony said, and for a second he hated himself for how broken his voice sounded, but it didn't matter, because now he was crying, "so am I, I'm trying so hard..." 

  


"Ssh..." Steve's hands left his, and Tony wanted to cry out in desperation, but before he could, those warm, strong hands were buried in his hair, stroking his cheek and resting on the nape of his neck. 

  


"Ssh, Tony." Steve whispered. "You're okay. You've done so well, for so long. That's all you could do, when you were by yourself..." He smiled. "But you're not alone anymore, Tony. You can do better now. Because you have someone else there with you." 

  


Tony nodded, unsure of what to say. The arc reactor was whirring in his chest again, insistent and powerful. Steve seemed almost bewildered by it, but as Tony had asked him before, he didn't lay a finger on it. 

  


"But you have to realize that now, things are going to change." Steve said gently. "You're opening up, Tony. That's good. And that means that you're going to notice things you might not have noticed before--like how much everyone here cares about you." He sighed. "You didn't notice, Tony, but that didn't mean that it wasn't there. It always was. They persisted, because they knew if they did, you would finally see it someday." 

  


Steve's hands were holding his again, and as wonderful as that was, part of Tony grieved for the loss of Steve's hands in his hair and on his neck. 

  


"You're going to be scared." Steve told him. "You're going to be angry, and frightened, and you might even lash out. But in the end, Tony, you're going to be so much better off." He squeezed Tony's hands tight. "Because you're going to have the team. And you'll finally realize just what that means." 

  


"And you." Tony said, his voice rough and thick with emotion. Steve blinked. Tony shook his head, fear starting to pierce his heart. "Y'know, you? I'll...I'll have you too, right?" He pleaded. It sounded desperate, longing, pathetic. Tony didn't care. 

  


Steve smiled. He pulled Tony out of his chair and stood up, and for the first time in a long time, Tony felt himself getting hugged, by arms so much stronger than his own. He had initiated contact before, sure--but this...this was different. This was someone proving that yes, they wanted to touch him and hold him of their own volition, because they _wanted_ him. This was warm. This was safe. This was _Steve_. 

  


"Tony, you'll always have me." Steve promised. "I just...thought that was a given." He chuckled and stroked Tony's hair. "Sorry. I thought you knew..." 

  


"Knowing something and believing in it are two different things." Tony said hoarsely. 

  


Steve didn't reply for a few minutes, just holding him tight in the lab. 

  


"...I can feel the reactor against my chest." He murmured. "Like before." He smiled. "It's strange...but kind of nice." 

  


"Hm." Tony grunted noncommittally, laying his head on Steve's shoulder. He wouldn't think about how this was diving headlong into something Tony didn't quite understand, or was particularly prepared for. He wouldn't think about how much he wanted to melt into Steve's embrace. How much he wanted to kiss him. How much he wanted him to stay by his side, always. He would just focus on the moment. 

  


"I'm always going to be here." Steve repeated. "I promise, Tony." 

  


His voice was soft as he leaned in closer, and Tony could feel the ghost of Steve's breath on his face as he murmured in his ear, "Just believe in me. Believe in yourself. And I know things will work out." 

  


Tony didn't let go of him for a few minutes more. 

  


When he did finally pull away, he looked at Steve and replied, "I really do have a few things to work on...but how about we go upstairs and see what they're all up to after that?" 

  


The grin Steve gave him was another one that would never stop lighting up his life. 

  


"I'd like that." He said. "And I think we can stay down here, sure...I still need to draw you, y'know." He shrugged. "I didn't feel comfortable drawing people in the S.H.I.E.L.D. base...they never seemed real." 

  


"I'm as real as it gets, Steve." Tony promised him. "So don't worry." 

  


"I never do." Steve said, flashing him another smile. "I'm with you." 

  


Tony knew it wasn't on purpose, because Steve was an innocent, sweet little virgin from a more wholesome era of America. But _Christ almighty_ , what that man could do to him with a few simple words. 

  


Tony sighed and picked up his blueprints, making a few adjustments. He was getting too old for this. 

  



	16. His Heart, the Almighty Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve likes watching Tony work. The other Avengers introduce him to the modern wonder of over a thousand channels on the TV. Tony is hopelessly smitten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So I don't think this update is particularly long, I'm sorry, but I legitimately have not sat down all day; I've been up and about shopping and cooking and baking and sewing for Valentine's Day, so, uh. But you all deserve an update! And if I am not severely busy tomorrow, possibly a small drabble of some kind. I can't promise that, though...I will still try!  
> Anyways, so, shocker; this is actually a very Steve-centric chapter, in that he elucidates on his thoughts a little more. I hope it's enjoyable--for me, personally, it seems like a departure from the main tone of the story, but whatever. Steve has Feels as much as Tony does, dammit! Especially about Bucky. Steve has many feels about Bucky.  
> I hope everyone reading this has a happy Valentine's day, single or not. ^^ I would regardless of a significant other, because hey, I have fans. Thank you all so much for everything; you're all lovely, wonderful people. <3

Steve was absolutely fascinated by the way Tony worked. He was surprised that he was--he had seen plenty of people working on mechanical things when he was stuck within S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters--busted drones, clocks, et cetera...but, well--those were just machines to them. To Tony, the suit--and everything else he worked on--was his entire life, encased within a carapace of crimson and gold. 

  


The love and devotion Tony put into welding the pieces together was immense. The surgical precision with which he cut new sections of the armor out with a thread-fine laser was clinical, his eyes the only thing that betrayed the excitement and enjoyment he got out of the process. The light around him shone brightly, so that he could see, but even then, all Steve could focus on within the room was Tony, his eyes alive and his calloused hands steady and true as he held the pieces of a new suit in his hands and deemed them suitable for his creation. 

  


His pencil flew across the paper; Steve didn't even look down anymore, his eyes completely focused on the way Tony moved. 

  


His musculature was beautiful, Steve admitted, a flush rising in his cheeks even as he justified the thought with artistic sensibility. 

  


The truth was, though, was that he found Tony's body beautiful, all rough and lean sinews and well-hewn muscle that was alternately so delicate compared to his and yet so strong, entirely enticing and worth drawing in a number of poses. Sitting--standing--leaning back, the skin of his neck catching the light as his face was illuminated in ways that made him look like a god, both inhumanly young and incredibly ancient--or with his shirt off, leaving him in nothing but a tank top that did nothing to hide that softly glowing circle that Steve wanted nothing more than to touch... 

  


Steve shifted nervously in his seat and continued to sketch, focusing on Tony's arms as they reached about the room, almost aimlessly searching for something, his fingers like gossamer caresses as he grazed a few tools before delicately selecting one off the rack, tending to his machinery as he would a sick child. 

  


He shaded that love and devotion into Tony's eyes as best as he could. He knew no one else saw Tony that way--as someone who had so much heart, just not for the world that had hurt him--and he could only hope to communicate some of his emotion through his art. He wanted everyone to see Tony as he saw him--he wanted everyone to understand Tony as he understood him...and he wanted them to love Tony. 

  


But perhaps not as he loved him, Steve admitted with a small smile. His love for Tony was something private and special. 

  


It was love, wasn't it, then? Steve mused idly, chewing on his eraser for a moment before making a few adjustments to the piece. Brothers in arms, then? Or...something else? He didn't even know if that was possible. It couldn't be; Tony was a man. So it just...had to be something new. Something Steve had never discovered... 

  


He shook his head. Regardless of what it was, he wouldn't tell Tony. He was a gentleman, through and through, and pressuring Tony into a confession of anything would go against everything he had been taught to do-- 

  


When what? When courting a lady? Why would that factor in to his treatment of Tony? 

  


Steve resisted the urge to hit himself in the face with his sketchbook. Instead, he focused on Tony and continued to draw, his hands doing the work as his mind wandered. 

  


Relationships between men could exist. He thought so, anyway--Clint and Coulson, if he had pegged it right...and, well...surely, there were others... 

  


So then what? And how did it concern him? 

  


Steve massaged his temples. This was too much thought put into one worrying, nagging little hope. Tony was just his friend. Tony was his best friend; his confidante, the one person who understood him, the one person Steve knew would never leave him, never die--not when he had the suit. The suit would protect him. The suit would keep Tony alive. Steve would have his friend safe and sound, and Tony would stay with him... 

  


Bucky...just didn't have the same luck, Steve supposed.

  


Steve closed his eyes and shuddered. He couldn't help it. As much as he missed Bucky and always would, he was just so grateful he had Tony...but, Bucky... 

  


He just prayed Bucky would forgive him for trying to move on. And that wherever he was, he would know that there would always be a part of Steve that missed him. 

  


"Steve?" Tony's voice cut through his thoughts, and the concern in his eyes was evident as he looked at him. "You've stopped drawing. Is everything okay?" 

  


"...Yeah." Steve murmured. "Just--I had this friend, and he..." 

  


"Bucky." Tony said. "Yeah, I know. Dad told me." He closed his eyes. "I'm really sorry, Steve." 

  


"...It's okay." Steve whispered. "But, Tony...Tony, I miss him. I miss him so much. It's been--it's been seventy years, and I still miss him..." 

  


"Ssh." Tony said gently, putting his tools down and coming over to Steve's side. "You're never going to stop missing him, Steve. He was your best friend in the world...he inspired you, made you want to be better. That means he left a mark on you that isn't going to fade." Tony told him, in the tone that said he understood exactly what Steve felt. He put his hand on Steve's shoulder. 

  


"But, at some point, you have to stop grieving and start living. I know that sounds dumb and cheesy, and it totally is." Tony sighed. "But it's true. You've had seventy years of just...waiting for a new life to begin, and here it is. You can't let the past drag you down. Not when your future is going to be so wonderful." 

  


"Because I have you." Steve said, his voice soft. "Only because I have you." 

  


Tony looked at him, then, and the look in his eyes was both one Steve couldn't name and one that made him know in that moment, completely and irrevocably, that Tony Stark was in love with him. 

  


"I could say the same thing." Tony said gently. 

  


The two went back to work; Tony to his suit, Steve to his drawing. A silence descended swiftly upon them, but it was one of peace and understanding, and it was one neither of them broke for a long time. 

  


Finally, after the bare bones of the suit had been finished, the blueprints scanned and saved to JARVIS' hardware, and the first ten pages of Steve's sketchbook were completely filled, Tony pulled his goggles up and grinned. 

  


"Well, I think that's a pretty good night." Tony said, satisfied. "But...I could do this again tomorrow, y'know? How about you?" 

  


"I'd love to." Steve said quietly. "I'd love to more than anything else in the world." 

  


"Sounds good to me." Tony replied, and the affection in his tone said enough. "Y'know, when you fill up that sketchbook, I want to see it." 

  


"Is that why you only got the one with fifty pages?" Steve said, a smile growing across his face. "Devious. I'll have this one full in two days at best." 

  


"Wow, color me impressed." Tony replied, looking genuinely shocked. "Though I did just build a good quarter of a new suit in four hours, so I guess I'm just as good." 

  


"If I respond to that, your ego will get so big you won't even be able to fit it down into your lab, Tony." Steve teased. Tony rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he put down his tools and shut down the computers. 

  


"...Though, if it matters..." Steve murmured. "I'm really impressed, Tony. You did great." 

  


"Thanks." Tony said softly, and his voice was so thick with emotion that Steve barely had time to process it all before Tony shook his head. "I need a shower. So do you; you're covered in charcoal and graphite." He tsked. "How about we get showered and dressed before going to meet everyone?" 

  


"I think that's a good idea." Steve agreed. "Wouldn't want to make a mess in the living room." 

  


"Please," Tony groaned, making his way upstairs, Steve following behind him as he opened the door and they headed out into the hallway, "Clint's probably already tracked cheeto dust into the carpets and popcorn into the sound systems, or whatever--honestly, I don't know how Coulson lives with him, Phil's _such_ a neat freak..." 

  


Steve just shrugged and smiled. He decided against reminding Tony about the mess on his desk, the grease pencil marks on the walls, the oil spills on the floor, or the coffee stains everywhere. 

  


The two made their way into their respective rooms. Before they entered them, however, they turned to look at each other. Something new to them both was reflected in the other's eyes. Neither of them knew what to say. 

  


So they both just smiled and headed straight into the shower. 

  


For the moment, it was enough. 

  


...

When they both came downstairs twenty minutes later, hair sopping wet and pajamas hanging off of their frames, coffee cups in both of their hands, no one said a word. When Tony plunked himself on the couch beside Pepper, Steve settling in beside him, no one said a word. 

  


When Tony tried to take the remote from Clint, though, that was when the indignant squawking and arguments of, "But I was here first!" and "But it's my house!" broke out, and with both Coulson and Pepper playing referee, everyone else inevitably made an excuse to go get some more popcorn or cheetos. 

  


Steve just sat in the midst of the bickering and smiled, watching everyone squabble. It was a warm sort of squabbling; the well-worn kind that all families indulged in from time to time. He liked it. It made him feel like he was home.

  


When Pepper and Coulson decided that neither Tony or Clint got the remote, and instead it went to Steve, he was a little mystified as to why they would give him the remote. It wasn't like he knew what to do with it... 

  


But then, as everyone else realized, that was half the fun. 

  


Everyone else settled in comfortably again, and for the rest of the night, entertained themselves with Steve flipping through the channels and reacting to what was deemed as modern American cable. (Tony tried to get him to buy porn, but Pepper and Coulson put a stop to that before everyone else talked him into it, too.) 

  


Steve didn't mind, though. It made them all closer; being together like this, open and vulnerable and yet so happy to be around each other...he really liked it. 

  


Plus, he made Tony smile. And he would do anything to keep that smile on Tony's face for as long as he possibly could. 

  


Steve grinned and changed the channel. 

  



	17. Scars in the Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki makes his appearance. Fury plots. Steve and Pepper have a conversation in which both of them prove how good they are for Tony, as boyfriend and best friend, respectively. Steve stays awake to protect everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where the hell did time go? I'm so sorry; I've been so busy with, well, life this week! But I have a long weekend--thanks President's Day--so hopefully updates won't be neglected. I probably should just go back to updating every day. If I skip a day, I usually just skip two. I am so sorry!  
> Anyways, so--I'm sorry about the sharp swerve in tone in this chapter, but Loki had to show up. He's instrumental later, and I can't just sort of have him show up randomly and be like, "boom! Plot device!" So I had to put this in here to explain a few things.  
> And yes, I'm afraid there's a bit of...like, exposition, I guess? I'm sorry. I hope it's still good. ^^;   
> Uhhh what was I going to say--oh, yes. Pepper Potts is just the best bitch and I love her. Oh Pep. So underappreciated. She's just so fabulous and ughhhh baby. Perfect.  
> And for anyone who's curious, yes, Rhodey is going to show up soon, as promised in like, chapter three, but it's slow going. I don't want anyone to think I've erased him from the fic. Not much else to say apart from that, except Steve gets his feels on this chapter, aw yeah! I'm sorry about updates, they might go back to daily, but be shorter, if only to get more out. I need to get back into the swing of, like, updating things again.

As the night fell sweetly about the Avengers, the night crept about the form of Loki Laufeyson, harsh and dark like obsidian daggers as he made his way through the cold. 

  


He had been banking on the mortals being unable to withstand their world's coldest temperatures, but perhaps S.H.I.E.L.D. was a more worthy foe than he had anticipated. Their operatives had followed him here, despite the brutal chill. The men were, perhaps, as boneheaded as Thor himself...but certainly nothing to trifle with. 

  


Still, Loki reminded himself, a lazy smile curling across his face as he lifted up a hand and watched sapphire hues swirl beneath thin, creamy skin, this was his domain, for better or worse. They were trespassers in his realm, not the other way around. At least, not out here. 

  


He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, allowing his hair to trail behind him as he opened his lips in a sultry pout, surveying the land that stretched out in front of his eyes. It was harsh and rough-hewn, glaciers throwing themselves up at the sky as if in challenge, cracks in the ice more like fangs of a mighty beast, poised to catch travelers if they slipped in. 

  


In its own way, it was quite beautiful...but Loki's eye was not poised to catch beauty at the moment. His eye was upon the agents approaching him, swarthed in thick coats the likes of which Loki had never seen. They didn't see him for the moment--his magics assured him of that--but he was curious as to why, specifically, they were here. He knew Fury had his eye on him, and had been pursuing him after his escape, but... 

  


Loki frowned. The man of Fury was more complex for him to figure out than most. It irked him. He did not care for a mortal he suspected could easily counter all but his very best efforts. 

  


"D'ya think the big guy's gonna want to get his hands on him, or what?" One of the agents asked. Loki raised an eyebrow. They were not discussing him--not directly, anyway. 

  


"I dunno." The other responded. "I've seen him around base for awhile now. Someone brought up the little runt, and he seemed pretty pissed." 

  


"At the thing?" The agent said. Loki's teeth grit together at the words, and he tried not to betray his presence with the snapping of a few necks. 

  


"Nah, that's just it; he seemed more angry that someone had called it a runt, y'know? Like, he just seemed...dunno, sorta sad about the thing in general. I dunno," he chuckled, "maybe they were "close," or somethin'." 

  


"Dunno. Don't really care, to be honest." The other responded. "I mean, the guy runs around calling himself Thor and wielding a giant hammer--how much stranger can you get, you know?" He shrugged. "He does seem sorta like he misses the thing. Maybe it was his punching bag." 

  


Loki's blood boiled. The initial anger at their mockery was flaring up in him like a blazing inferno, but he held himself steady long enough to truly process their words. 

  


Thor. They had called him Thor. 

  


Loki had thought him back on Asgard. He had never...never thought he would truly come back. Did he know Loki was on Midgard? Had he come for him, then? 

  


Loki bit his lip so hard it bled, sluggish liquid creeping out from between his split lip. He would not dare dream of such a thing. To do so was to allow himself the sort of false hope that allowed all his schemes to be rent asunder. He did not care about Thor. He could not. 

  


And yet. 

  


Hope was a mighty and strange thing, Loki decided, and rather fearsome as well. He did not entirely understand its flighty impulses, nor the way it bewitched the hearts of both men and Aesir. 

  


That was his justification for the teleportation spell that brought him straight back to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, straight into the offices of Nick Fury. 

  


He had not shifted from his form of Jotun, sapphire skin glowing softly with magic as he made his way over to Fury's desk, his eyes shining so wetly as to appear fashioned from blood. If the man was surprised, he did not show it. 

  


"Is Thor here?" Loki asked. "My brother. Is he with you?" 

  


Nick watched him for a minute. Then he chuckled, low and dark. Loki did not like it; it reminded him far too much of his father for a second, and it sent a shiver down his spine. 

  


"Why should I tell you?" He said, amused. "You're in my base now, Loki. I could do whatever I wanted to you, and I wouldn't have to tell you a damn thing." 

  


"Because," Loki began, his voice soft and laced with icy venom, "you know what I am and what I can do. You believe in the might of gods, Fury. And you know I could leave all your people and everything in your base splinters of ice upon the floor. So you grant me my request, so that I may go with you willingly and submit to whatever procedures you wish me to undergo." He explained. "It is not that hard. You are clever, for a mortal. You should understand this." 

  


Nick looked at him for a minute. Then he folded his hands together on his desk and smiled. It was the smile of a predator. Loki returned it in kind. 

  


"Thor is indeed here." Nick said. "But he's residing somewhere else for the week." 

  


He watched, interested, as Loki made no move to teleport away. 

  


"Isn't that your cue to exit stage left, Loki?" He asked. Loki raised an eyebrow. 

  


"I made an agreement." He said. "For the moment, I honor this agreement. Besides, the effort it would take to hold off your men and find my brother is simply too strenuous. I will wait. Your agreement with me will hold for as long as I wish it to, and no more." 

  


As the agents came in to grab him, Loki smiled again, triumphant. Fury was tempted to rage or get brutal, but he decided against it; it would simply prove to the god that he had won. And he had not won this war. Not yet. 

  


"I suggest you take this week as time to formulate a plan, Fury," Loki said quietly, "because as soon as my brother is in my grasp again, you will understand why making an agreement with the prince of lies is not, perhaps, in your best interests." 

  


Fury watched him leave, motionless and stoic. 

  


"Honestly, Loki, truth be told," he said, before the door was shut and Loki disappeared into the depths of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, "I was more interested to see how you'd play this one out. The agreement doesn't mean a damn thing." 

  


He chuckled to himself as he took his novel off his desk and continued to read, as if he had never been interrupted. It was very easy to convince tricksters that they always had the upper hand, so long as you never let them in on too much. Watching his game with Thor might actually interest him...for awhile, at least. 

  


Nick reached the next chapter in his book and put the problem to rest. 

  


Three floors below him, in the darkness, Loki began to scream. 

  


...

When he was in a group, Steve was always the last person to fall asleep. No matter how tired he was, as long as someone else was awake and nearby, he couldn't go to bed. He just had to make sure everyone fell asleep safely, he supposed. He had always been like that, according to his mother... 

  


So as it went, Clint fell asleep first, snoring softly as he sprawled out in Coulson's lap. Coulson just sighed and stroked his hair as Natasha fell asleep next, gently putting her head on Coulson's shoulder. Upon seeing them both asleep, Coulson sighed, relieved, and sunk into the cushions of the couch, closing his eyes and falling asleep in practically seconds. 

  


Bruce fell asleep next, sprawled out beside Thor, his curls falling into his face as he slept serenely on the couch. Thor's thunderous snores somehow didn't faze the radiologist--he slept beside him despite Thor literally making the couch around them vibrate. Steve just chalked it up to exhaustion. 

  


It was just him, Pepper, and Tony, then. Tony sighed, amused, and surveyed the others. 

  


"So much for peace and quiet, huh, Pep?" He murmured. Pepper grinned. 

  


"I know. I shouldn't have even bothered to hope." She replied. "Don't worry, Tony. They're just going to be checking in on occasion, nothing major. They're just...worried about you." 

  


Tony shrugged. He didn't protest, though, which Steve took as a good sign. 

  


"If you say so." He mumbled. "Figure I should sleep before you and Steve nag me to death." 

  


Steve opened his mouth to say something, but it was cut off the second Tony sprawled out across him, hands in his lap and head on his shoulder, closing his eyes. 

  


"Night." Tony said, and with that, he fell asleep right on Steve's shoulder. 

  


Steve just looked down at him. Then he looked back at Pepper. Pepper shrugged. 

  


"I...I've never seen him do that." She said, sounding just as shocked as Steve. "Wow, Steve. You've really done a number on him." 

  


"All he needed was some help!" Steve protested in a soft whisper. Pepper shook her head. 

  


"Steve, he _was_ getting help. "She reminded him gently. "He had me, the team, Rhodey...it wasn't that he didn't have help. It was that he refused to accept it." She smiled. "That was where you came in, thankfully." 

  


"...Oh." Steve murmured. "I...I guess..." He swallowed. "Pepper? I have a question, if it's not too much trouble for you to answer." 

  


"Okay, Steve." Pepper said. "Shoot." 

  


Steve didn't touch the reactor. He had promised Tony. But his hand came close, just brushing the edge of ring of scars around it as he looked up at Pepper. 

  


"I know how he got this...but not all the details, I mean. Could you tell me any more about...why Tony needs this, I mean?" Steve asked. 

  


Pepper didn't return his gaze for a minute. Then she sighed and fisted her hands into her skirt, looking up at him. Steve winced at the expression on her face; it was sad and frustrated and so very despairing. If Tony hadn't been sleeping on top of him, he would have hugged her. 

  


"I can't tell you everything." She murmured. "You know that though, don't you? You want to hear the story from Tony." 

  


"I do." Steve agreed. "But...I just--I don't even know what's going on with it, and I'm worried--is it killing him? Is--" Steve choked on his words for a second, fear and panic making him ill, "is Tony going to die?" 

  


"For awhile, it seemed like he was," Pepper responded, "but he got better. Tony's not going anywhere, Steve." 

  


Steve sighed, not even bothering to hide his relief. Pepper was giving him a look, but it was a nice one, so he didn't mind it, particularly. 

  


"I can explain a little, at least." She said. "Just so you understand why Tony's so protective over the thing." 

  


"I wouldn't call it protective..." Steve murmured. "He seems to hate it. He just...he doesn't seem like he feels comfortable in his own skin, sometimes. I don't know--I was drawing him in the lab, and even then, sometimes I noticed stutters in his step or twitches, like he wasn't aware of himself." He swallowed and grinned sheepishly. "You notice these things when you're an artist." 

  


"No, I've noticed it too..." Pepper said softly. "I guess I just never considered that he could hate it. Tony's always proud of his machines. And the arc reactor is his greatest work, after all." 

  


"He isn't proud of them," Steve snapped, and he didn't mean to, but his temper was rising, he would apologize later, "he _hides_ himself in them. He hopes that his machines will be human for him. And it isn't enough anymore." 

  


Pepper just looked at him, and the desperation in her eyes only deepened. Steve reached out as best as he could and took her hand, trying not to wake Tony. Tony didn't stir. Pepper squeezed back. 

  


"I know." She said, her voice full of pain. "I know. But it's easier to tell myself the same lies that he does, because then we're both in agreement, and Tony won't hide things from me. Even when he lies, Steve, he can't help but be honest at least sometimes. If I told him what I thought...then he would close himself off more, think of me as a problem, a threat." She sighed. "But he doesn't do that with you. Thank god for that." 

  


"No, he doesn't." Steve murmured. "And I'm not sure why, but I am very grateful too." He sighed. "Pepper...if Tony doesn't like it, why is it in his body? I know he likes machines, but..." 

  


"Because it has to be." Pepper replied. "The basics of how the arc reactor came to be are that Tony was in Afghanistan for awhile. He got bombed during an insurgent raid." She swallowed. "Then they tortured him. Hurt him. Him and a friend--Ho Yinsen, I believe--managed to build the Iron Man prototype, and while in the cave, Tony built the arc reactor as well. It kept him alive--the bombing damaged his heart, Steve..." 

  


Steve was shaking. Pepper put a hand on his shoulder. 

  


"He's safe now." Pepper said gently. "He got out. He doesn't have nightmares anymore. At least...not about the war." She sighed. "But that--I can't tell you that. I'm so sorry, Steve, but that's Tony's business." 

  


"I know." Steve whispered, his voice soft and hoarse and full of tears. "I just needed to know why he would let himself get hurt by that. He...he didn't seem to be so happy before, at least, if everyone else and what they've told me rings true...so why did he fight so hard to live? I...I'm so grateful, but...I don't understand. Wasn't Tony miserable?" Steve asked. 

  


"Truth is, I think most people want to live, deep down somewhere on the inside. For all the weapons Tony made, that time in Iraq was the first time he had ever really fought for anything." Pepper sighed. "And...well, didn't you listen to him?" She looked at Steve. 

  


"His father told him to wait for you, Steve." She said. "Howard knew you would be back. And he wanted Tony to be there for you. I guess...I guess maybe Tony did, too." 

  


The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes. 

  


Suddenly, Steve began to stroke Tony's hair. He was gentle, careful, and so tender and proud that Pepper looked away for a minute to allow them that emotional intensity in private. 

  


When she looked back at them both, Steve was smiling at Tony, his fingers gently resting on his cheek. There was an unrecognized love in that smile, and it took all of Pepper's emotional fortitude to resist shaking his shoulders and making him confess. 

  


"I'm very glad I'm here for Tony." He whispered. "I think we both needed it." 

  


"Seems so." Pepper agreed. "Look..." She sighed. "If you want to know the whole story, don' t worry about pestering Tony a little. You have to be persistent, really, because he'll never tell you if he thinks you've forgotten to ask. Follow up on it. Keep talking to him about it. He will tell you, I know it--he worships you." 

  


"Okay." Steve murmured. "It's still his choice in the end, though." 

  


"I know." Pepper said. "But he really does want to tell you. He's just so scared." 

  


"He doesn't have to be." Steve said. "I'm here to protect him." 

  


"And he'll learn that in time." Pepper agreed. "Just remember to keep teaching it to him." 

  


Steve grinned. Pepper ruffled his hair. 

  


"I actually happen to like sleeping in a bed, so I'll let your little group be." She told him. "See you in the morning, Captain." 

  


"Goodnight, Pepper." He murmured. "Thank you for everything." 

  


She just smiled and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. 

  


Steve finally turned the TV off and looked around the room. Everyone was asleep, safe and sound. 

  


He looked down at Tony. He was asleep--safe and sound, right in his arms. The arc reactor glowed softly as Steve pulled Tony a little closer and laid down on the couch beside him. 

  


Everyone was asleep. Finally, Steve could rest. 

  


He closed his eyes and fell asleep on the couch, the arc reactor's soft whirring lulling him to sleep as he made himself very comfortable with the feeling of Tony in his arms. 

  



	18. Lazy Grey Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Steve hang out and watch TV. Pepper is up for a foursome. Yes, Jerseylicious is a real show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God dammit. Sorry. I don't even know, life keeps getting in the way, and it annoys me!  
> Anyways, blah blah blah, THF, what else is new. Pepper is still amazing. I really like the Fairly Oddparents, you guys. (Well at least the old episodes.) So if you catch the reference, congrats!  
> Not much else to say! Cute fluff, though. And a bit of a setup to the next chapter, which should hopefully be better.  
> Yes Jerseylicious is a real show. Yes it airs on TV. Yes there is no god.   
> Sometimes I honestly worry about telling people I'm from New Jersey.  
> Anywho, hope you enjoy this chapter. ^^ Wish I had more to comment on, but that'll probably be next chapter if I've timed these right.

The next morning dawned upon them windy and grey. Steve frowned as he looked outside and saw the rain pattering against the windowpanes. So much for a day in the park...but maybe he could take Tony to a cafe, still? 

  


The warm weight in his arms made him start, shocked, as he suddenly realized that Tony was still in his arms, sleeping soundly. 

  


He didn't protest, though. He just laid his head down against Tony's cheek and closed his eyes, smiling as he snuggled close. Tony was warm, and he hadn't brought a blanket downstairs, so Steve didn't mind. It was just for warmth... 

  


He fell back asleep again, breathing soft and easy. 

  


Unfortunately, that was not to last; at the sounds of Steve stirring, Clint awoke, yawning and stretching, which woke up Coulson, who woke up Natasha, who woke up Thor, who woke up Bruce. With everyone yawning and lounging about like well-fed cats, Tony was bound to awaken. And so he did, stirring in Steve's arms, opening his eyes slowly before turning his head up and looking right into Steve's eyes. 

  


...

Tony was sure he was still dreaming. He had to be. Nothing could ever be as perfect as this moment--a rainy day, still and grey, and Captain America, in the flesh, keeping him safe from the cold and the wet with his strong, warm arms. 

  


It was a dream. 

  


And yet. 

  


Tony blinked. Steve was still there, smiling down at him, like seeing Tony waking up was the only thing he wanted to do in the entire world. From the light in his eyes, Tony could almost believe that was the truth. 

  


"Hey, soldier." He murmured. "Did Pepper make coffee yet?" 

  


"Good morning to you too, Tony." Steve said, amused. "Yes, she did, I think. I can hear her in the kitchen. Would you like me to make you some?" 

  


"I'll do it..." Tony yawned and stretched out. What he really wanted to do was never leave this couch and stay in the living room forever with Steve. But coffee was pretty okay, too. 

  


He yawned and got up, padding across the hardwood floor and onto the rug as everyone else mooned about, trying to wake up properly. Thor was very clearly not a morning person; neither was Clint. Bruce was suddenly trying to cope with about three hundred pounds of godly muscle pressed up against him like a sleepy cat, but Coulson and Natasha had experience with this, and as such, Clint was up and ready to go as Steve made his way into the kitchen as well, albeit whining the whole way. 

  


As Steve meandered his way into the kitchen, Tony sat at the table, a cup of coffee already in front of him. He was ignoring it, though. His eyes were sharp and focused, wide and searching, but not on the coffee. Tony's eyes mapped their way out over the reactor beneath them, which glowed a sickly pale blue--lighter than Steve had ever seen. He didn't say a word; he wouldn't disturb Tony, but his whole mind was alight with curiosity. 

  


Tony's fingers brushed against the edge of the reactor for a second, before pulling away as if they had been burned. Steve didn't understand why, but Tony didn't get that close again. He took a sip of his coffee and muttered to himself, "Need to replace the reactor today..." 

  


Steve realized then that Tony didn't realize he was there. He didn't want Tony to confess anything unwittingly, so he hastily interrupted, "Good morning, Tony." 

  


The other man jumped, but his eyes lit up just a bit as he looked at Steve. 

  


"Oh, hey." He said. "You're such a morning person. It drives me up a wall." He sipped his coffee. "And don't think I don't know that look on your face; yes, _mother_ , I'm eating." 

  


"Bagel's almost done in the toaster." Pepper remarked, making her way into the dining room. "No messages from Fury, though I'm not surprised. Rhodey will be here tomorrow." 

  


"Okay." Tony said. "It'll be good to see him again--and god, he has to meet Steve..." 

  


"I'd like to meet him." Steve said pleasantly. "Do you like cream cheese or butter on your bagel, Tony?" 

  


"Jesus, stop." Tony groaned, watching Steve putter towards the kitchen. Upon seeing that he wouldn't, Tony rolled his eyes and muttered, "Cream cheese." 

  


"Swell." Steve said cheerfully. "Pepper, can you get the cream cheese, please?" 

  


"Of course, Steve." Pepper said, trying not to look amused by Tony's sputtering. "I put in a bagel for you, too." 

  


"Thank you, Pep." Steve replied, taking the bagels out of the toaster and putting them down where Tony could watch him spread the cream cheese across them both, before offering him the one coated thoroughly with cream cheese. Tony gave him a look, but he ate it anyway, chewing on every bite carefully so as to satisfy Steve. The soldier just hummed, delighted, and chewed on his own bagel.

  


The others eventually made their way into the kitchen, Coulson, somehow, already impeccably dressed. Tony didn't even bother questioning it. 

  


"I'm taking the kids out for breakfast." He said, amused. "We'll be back for dinner tonight, Stark. I'll bring sushi." 

  


"Much obliged." Tony said, actually flashing Coulson a quick smile. "Getting a bit sick of pizza and Chinese." 

  


"Perish the thought." Coulson said, shaking his head. "All right, then. Out with you, children. See you tonight, Steve. Tony." He took Pepper's hand and bowed. "Ms. Potts." 

  


She watched them all go with wide eyes, listening to the door shut with a soft click. Then she turned back to Tony and Steve. 

  


"Any chance you think he'd be up for a foursome?" She mused. Tony chuckled. 

  


"I'm a great influence on you, it seems." He murmured, amused. "What about that Norweigan hunk from that silicon company?" 

  


"He _was_ Norweigalicious," Pepper mused, "but too naive. I liked that man from Marketing. He had a hedgehog. I do like hedgehogs." 

  


"Dunno, but you do need to find someone." Tony said, sipping his coffee. "Maybe you and Steve could--" 

  


The utter look of shock of Steve's face made Tony stop midsentence. He put his coffee down and looked at him. 

  


"Hey, Steve." He said. "Sorry. I forgot about Peggy. I was...uh, just joking." 

  


Steve just watched him for a minute. Then he smiled. Tony wasn't sure why. But at least he hadn't made Steve a nervous wreck... 

  


"No, it's fine." He promised. "I just--uh, y'know, Tony? There's really...I've got a lot going on, and...a few things I need to sort out." He frowned. "Love has changed a lot since the 40s, you know." 

  


"...But it's still good, right?" Tony asked. Steve smiled even brighter now, wiping a bit of cream cheese off of Tony's nose. Tony huffed like an offended kitten and wriggled away, but there was a smile on his face. 

  


"It's always good, Tony," Steve told him, suddenly coming to an epiphany as he said, "no matter who it's with." 

  


"Unless they're, you know, Hitler." Pepper piped up. Steve couldn't help but laugh. 

  


"Well, yes." He said, shaking his head. "Hey, Pep, what about Rhodey? If he's such a swell guy like Tony says..." 

  


"Oh, god no." Pepper said, trying not to laugh. "All we would do is go to restaurants and complain about Tony." 

  


"So, the same thing you do now?" Tony teased. Pepper huffed and ruffled his hair as Tony squealed in protest. Steve just laughed, settling into the warm kitchen and sipping his coffee, feeling more at home than ever. 

  


"Do you have any plans today, Tony?" Pepper asked. "I have a meeting in an hour, and I don't want you and Steve home alone, wrecking the place." 

  


"Steve wanted to go out for coffee." Tony said. "I know it's raining, so we can't go to the park, like he wanted...but, y'know. What Steve wants, Steve gets, so we're going to order some stuff from the cafe to be sent here. Best I can do in this situation." He stretched out in his seat, apparently unaware of Steve's stares. "Then I think I'm just going to work on the suit and modifying Steve's shield for the day. JARVIS messaged me that Fury sent over all Steve's things." 

  


"I already got the package, yes." Pepper replied. "And that seems like a good idea." She stretched and sighed. "I should probably get going. If Rhodey calls, tell him I already ordered his ticket out here. You two please be careful, and take an umbrella." She told them both, kissing their cheeks before heading out the door, grabbing an umbrella herself before leaving the house. 

  


Tony and Steve just looked at each other. Steve finally found the courage to mention what he had been meaning to tell Tony since he had brought it up in conversation. 

  


"Hey, Tony..." He murmured. "You don't have to get anything from the cafe, really." 

  


"No, but I want to." Tony said, patting his hand. "It'll be fun. I know a nice little place you'll like." He grinned. "But we've got some time to kill, and you only reached about five hundred of my thousand and one cable channels, so...how about some TV-watching, Cap?" 

  


Steve groaned, but he followed Tony back into the TV room with a smile on his face. 

  
...

For awhile, the two watched television, snuggled close on the huge couch as if in defiance of the chilly rain pouring outside. Tony got a blanket to wrap around the two of them as they channel surfed, Steve drawing idly in his sketchbook as they appreciated the finer merits of being _Jerseylicious_. Tony would never admit to being amused by the whole thing, but Steve seemed fascinated by reality TV, in the same way one was fascinated by a particularly gory trainwreck. 

  


They had some peace, then; Rhodey called and he and Tony made sure everything was together. Tony made some popcorn. They got the basket of pastries and coffee delivered and put it by the couch so they could eat and watch TV. Nothing major. 

  


And yet, that was the best part. Nothing major. Nothing crazy, nothing insane--no one tore the house apart, nothing exploded, nothing malfunctioned or went haywire...it was just a very normal day between the two of them, puttering from the kitchen to the living room and back, munching on odds and ends. 

  


Steve wanted to cry, he was so happy. 

  


Tony didn't say anything, but Steve knew he was just as pleased. It was all over his face, contained in his bearing, and the light, contented way he carried himself as he walked or sprawled out over the couch. 

  


"Tony?" Steve whispered, finally, as the silence began to wear on a little. "Don't you need to check the reactor?" 

  


Tony didn't respond for a minute. Steve waited patiently. He knew Tony needed to take his time. 

  


"...I guess." Tony muttered. "Later, though. I just...I want to spend some time with you." 

  


"We can go down into the lab together, if you'd like." Steve said pleasantly. "I'll be with you wherever you go, Tony. Don't worry." 

  


Tony sighed, at a loss for a defense. He looked over at the door leading towards the lab and shrugged. 

  


"It's just...Steve, you might not like what you see down there." He murmured. "Give me a few minutes to prepare, okay?" 

  


"Okay." Steve agreed, his voice soft and gentle. "How about we sit here for awhile longer, too? There's a new episode of _Jerseylicious_ on." 

  


"Oh, joy," Tony said, but the truth was, despite feeling his intelligence draining from him every second he watched the show, he was so very grateful to just be close to Steve for awhile longer, appreciating the feel of him for as long as he could before Steve would pull away in disgust upon seeing him in the lab and realizing just what a freak he was. 

  



	19. Reactor Removal Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony fixes the reactor. Steve is his knight in star-spangled armor. The two of them exchange a little more about Tony's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a really heavy chapter to write, and very long as well--very hard to cut off at any point to end the chapter, so I held it back for a few days.  
> There's actually an explanation for all this. I happen to own an _Art of Iron Man_ book, (thanks, Comicon!), and the artwork for the movie is both breathtaking and insightful--lot of explanations for things that happened in-movie without comment.   
>  At any rate, what piqued my curiosity the most was a picture of Tony in this behemoth of a machine. It looked like a mechanical Collossus, all wires and galvanized metal, and I was kind of impressed, honestly. The comments on the piece were what struck me, though--you know the scene with Pepper and her putting in the reactor, right? Apparently that was a rewrite after they wanted a more "human" approach to the removal of the reactor. That huge machine was initially an arc reactor removal machine. Which makes more sense, honestly--I'm pretty sure the reactor would at least be sort of hot, considering it's constantly producing energy and adapting to Tony's body heat, which means Pepper would've had at least a few burns, and it's probably not safe for people to just grab barehanded, but this is comics so fuck logic. And it's not like I care about the logistics of the thing, since I'm pretty sure everyone else gets to grab it for the lulz in-verse.   
> Anywho, the idea began to whirr in my brain--post-Stane and the Iron Monger incident, why the hell would Tony want anyone touching the reactor? There was no need for the "human moment" with the reactor--humanity had betrayed it and Tony both, so he was done. So he built the machine to safely extract and re-input the thing much better than even he could. I figure he probably doesn't want to touch it either, so let's say it was in production in Iron Man 2--I mean, hell, it took awhile to build, even for Tony, I'm sure.  
> So there you go, that neatly sums up why this chapter even exists! Woo!   
> For the record, if you are triggered by panic attacks, please skip the reactor scenes. I based them off my own panic attacks, so I should hope they're portrayed reasonably well, which means that they're likely to be triggering.  
> Anywho...uh, with that cheerful thing in mind, enjoy this chapter.

The episode ended and Tony was left with the fact that yes, indeed, he had to go down into the lab. He sighed and stood up, turning off the television and beckoning to Steve. He seemed almost overjoyed to be going back down into the lab--he grabbed his sketchbook and pencils and trotted after Tony with an overwhelming air of eager delight. In any other situation, Tony would have loved it. But...not right now. Not with what he was about to do. 

  


He shrugged to himself and made his way into the lab, punching in the code. JARVIS hummed, as if the AI wanted to say something, but he was, of course, able to see the look on Tony's face. He then wisely fell silent. 

  


Steve followed in behind Tony, a little on edge. Tony's tense, terse movements and the waves of panic and apprehension that Steve could practically feel rolling off of him added up to a very nervous Steve. He bit his lip and said nothing. To get too involved would probably be impolite, improper. Tony was able to decide what he did and didn't need. 

  


...Usually. 

  


Steve sighed and sat down, settling in on the chair from yesterday and picking up a pencil, watching Tony intently as he stalked about the lab with an air of the hunt about him, sketching the sharp motions of Tony's body with a careful eye. 

  


Eventually, Tony came to a stop in front of a chair. It was bolted to the floor, but looked like it could be raised and lowered, akin to a barber's chair. It had restraints, straps, and some odd wires and tech Steve didn't recognize hanging off of it like a badly made wig. 

  


Tony wasn't looking at him, Steve suddenly noticed, and hadn't been since they had entered the lab. At that thought, worry filled his heart; had he done something wrong? Was this all his fault in some way? If--if he'd hurt Tony, he would never forgive himself. _Never._

  


"JARVIS," Tony said, the first word that had left his lips since they had come downstairs, "get the replacement reactor. On my desk." 

  


" _Of course, Tony._ " JARVIS responded, and with a thin, reedy whine, a robotic arm had reached out across the room to Tony's desk, sifting through the papers and pencils to find another reactor. It gleamed dully even in the light of the lab, so shiny and new and wondrous that Steve's breath caught in his throat at its beauty. 

  


" _Are you sure this will work to your specifications, Tony_?" JARVIS asked, his voice gentle and querying; Steve actually detected a note of concern in it, too. Tony snorted. 

  


"Uh, yeah, obviously," he said, pointing at the new reactor, "it's been designed to perfectly accommodate the element I synthesized specifically for the reactor, and operates with much more power--you saw me make the thing, you helped me blueprint it!" He snapped. "Just...just get the machine up and running, dammit." 

  


Tony's gaze was now focused exclusively on his hands, avoiding both Steve and the reactor in his chest. For a minute, JARVIS didn't say anything. 

  


A very humanlike sigh emitted from the AI's systems as he responded, " _Very well, Tony. Perhaps you could explain the process to Steve, so that he is not startled or off-put by it?_ " 

  


"Doesn't matter," Tony mumbled, so soft Steve knew he thought he wouldn't be able to hear it, "he'll think I'm a freak no matter what I do." 

  


The blood that suddenly began to boil in Steve's ears as his heart pounded with righteous fury and the need to tell Tony how wrong he was really was a very strange sensation. 

  


"T--" Steve didn't even have the chance to get his name out, because the second he started to yell, he jumped, shocked, as a machine began to whir to life beside him. 

  


It was huge. Steve realized that the single machine alone was what took up the large overhang of wires and metal workings that arched over the lab, as if it alone held up the ceiling above it. The whole thing glowed a pale blue with its inner mechanisms, all responding to the power of the arc reactor it had firmly embedded in its workings. It was, in its own way, quite beautiful, albeit entirely eldritch to Steve, and as such, incredibly eerie to be near. 

  


He edged away from it, resettling at a safer distance, and beginning to draw as fast as he could, running his pencil over the page, spilling into two, three pages to get at the rough skeleton of the machine, saving the rest in his mind so that he could go back to it later, recreating the wondrous tangle of wires and steel on the paper. 

  


Tony didn't notice him. He was strapped into the chair, well aware of his instincts to struggle and bolt by this point; the machine had effectively wrapped him up in its coils as tight as it could, for his own safety. 

  


Steve saw this, though, even as Tony did his best to ignore him. His lip curled in disgust--the thought of the machine holding Tony in such a way filled him with a strange, nameless rage--he couldn't piece together why it made him angry, but oh, how it did. Tony looked so frightened, he thought as he watched him lay back and try to stop breathing in short, shallow gasps, so sick and pale and scared that all Steve wanted to do was rip apart the machine on his behalf. 

  


He held his tongue and his rage, though, his impulses controlled as best as he could reign them in, considering. He was shaking as he drew Tony, his body so small and frail in contrast to the austere strength of the machine in its spartan, galvanized glory. 

  


Steve wasn't particularly sure how the machine worked yet. That question was resolved as the robotic arm dipped down and reached for Tony's reactor. 

  


The sudden overwhelming fear for Tony was the only thing that occupied Steve's mind at that moment in time; he was paralyzed with terror, his heart slamming against his ribs like mad and his eyes wide, his lips open and his throat convulsing in an attempt to force out a scream.

  


Tony was shaking, trembling with fear and panic. The arm continued to reach for the reactor, thin metal wire-claws extending to slip into the minute space between the reactor and Tony's chest, which had to be no more than a hairsbreadth wide. Once they did, the reactor was pulled out with a neat, sharp click. 

  


Tony began to sob, terror evident across his face. He was silent, save for the whimpers and panicked gasps, but he was mouthing, over and over, "It hurts, it hurts, it hurts..." 

  


The sudden jerk that wracked his entire body as the reactor was pulled away along with Tony's hysterical cries of agony and misery were what suddenly yanked Steve out of his fear-induced paralysis. He had to act. He had to save Tony--he had to _move_ \-- 

  


" _NO_!" Steve screamed, vaulting over Tony's worktable and bolting across the lab, uncaring of whatever he was crushing beneath his feet. " _TONY, NO_!" 

  


Before he could reach Tony, however, the shining, immaculate arc reactor from before was lowered down on the robotic arm, the deft, clinical manipulation of the wires and machinery pushing the wires into the system before setting the arc reactor back into place, letting it whir to life and glow with life-saving energy. 

  


As Steve watched, only vaguely aware of tears trailing down his face, Tony's body jerked upwards twice, and he let out one last frightened, miserable wail of hideous agony before collapsing into tears in the chair, which still held him tight, the bonds so taut against his skin that they were cutting into it. 

  


Steve's mind was working on a Zen-like state of reflex and adrenaline; he was only barely aware on a conscious level of crossing the rest of the lab in two strides before taking Tony into his arms and ripping him out of the chair, quite literally--the bonds were no match for the strength of Captain America, and within the blink of an eye, Steve had Tony in his arms on the floor of the lab, holding Tony close as he moaned with a wretched, sick sort of desperation. 

  


"Tony, what-- _what did you just do_?!" Steve snapped. The rage from before welled back up in him, all-consuming and feeding off of his terror now, as he looked down at Tony's pale, tear-stained face. "You put your life in the hands of a _machine_ , Tony! It's _just a machine_ ; it could malfunction or break down, and if you, if you got _hurt_ , oh, Tony, Tony _oh god_ \--" 

  


Steve retched, panic and fear overtaking him as he clutched Tony so tight he felt Tony whimper from his grip. He lessened it just enough to keep Tony from being hurt, but it was such a tight embrace, even then. 

  


"Steve," Tony said, soft amusement evident in his words even now, as he traced the arc reactor in his chest, "I already do, every day. This is nothing new." 

  


"It's different!" Steve bawled, still panicking. "You could have let me--I would have--I've repaired things before, and I--and you--Tony, don't--you scared me _so bad_ \--" 

  


" _No,_ Steve," Tony snapped, "I don't--this, this _thing_ in me is--it makes me _defective_ , and you--you aren't allowed to touch it!" Tony told him. "You're--you--and you can't! You just _can't_!" 

  


Tony's heart was thumping against his grip. Steve idly worried if he was pushing the reactor too fast and too far. He swallowed; he had other concerns to discuss now. 

  


"Tony." Steve said gently. "You don't like the reactor, do you?" 

  


He closed his eyes and chuckled darkly, shaking his head as he shuddered in Steve's arms, as if he was ill. 

  


"Not in my _chest_ , no." Tony muttered. "Would anyone? It's...it's _wrong_ , Steve. It's a machine. In my chest. And it's...it's the only thing that keeps me alive." He swallowed. "I never...I never wanted to depend on _anything_ that much. Because, I mean, if...if the reactor breaks, then I--if--if someone just--just rips it out of my chest--" 

  


Tony's face went pale, and Steve only had a second to pull his hair away from his face before he puked, shuddering in disgust and self-loathing. It was mostly blood and bile, and thankfully, he had missed Steve's pants, but the smell itself was overpowering. 

  


"Fuck," Tony spat, tears in his eyes, "f-fuck, s-s'sorry, I, I," he gasped, shuddered, inhaled sharply, "m'sorry, Steve, m'disgusting--" 

  


"Tony, ssh." Steve comforted him. "Ssh, Tony. It's okay. I've seen soldiers do this before. It's trauma. You're not sick. You're not disgusting. You're just scared. It's all right." He began to rub his back gently, his hand moving in slow circles across the expanse of Tony's back. Tony shook his head. 

  


"S'different, Steve." Tony said. "S'all my fault. I was stupid, and dumb, and callous, and I deserve this--" 

  


"No you don't," Steve said sternly, "stop that. Stop thinking that, Tony. It's not going to help you." 

  


"I don't deserve help." Tony murmured. "Why are you even here? Just...just go away, Steve." 

  


"Tony, we need to get you upstairs." Steve told him, ignoring what he had said. "I'm not leaving. You're getting some help. Whether you think you need it or not." 

  


Tony struggled in his arms, but Steve's grip was tight. He stood up and carried Tony across the lab floor, calling, "JARVIS? Could you get something to clean up the mess, please?" 

  


" _I will do my best, Steve._ " JARVIS responded. The machine paused, as if he was considering something vital. Then a sound akin to a sigh came through the speakers. 

  


"... _Please take care of Anthony. I believe this is a side effect of something larger, and I have voiced my concerns and provided therapeutic solutions, but_ \--" 

  


"JARVIS, _shut the hell up_!" Tony screamed. "Just _shut up_! Everyone just _shut the hell up_ and _leave me the fuck alone_!" 

  


Steve just continued to carry Tony up the steps, not speaking. JARVIS didn't respond either. They both knew sometimes Tony just needed to be left to scream. 

  


Steve made his way down the hallway and up the next flight of stairs, into Tony's bedroom. The adjacent bathroom already had its door ajar; Steve went in and locked it behind him, only setting Tony down on the lip of the sink once he gauged it locked, with no way for Tony to get around him. Even then, he kept his hand on Tony's shoulder, firm but gentle. 

  


"You're taking a shower." Steve said sternly, staring him down and jerking his head in the direction of the shower behind them. "Don't tell me you don't need one. You are going to take a shower, and then you're going to lay down until the panic attack passes. You're still shaking, Tony! That isn't healthy!" 

  


"Don't touch me." Tony said, and Steve realized, finally, that he wasn't angry. It was a sad, desperate plea. He was _begging_ for Steve to let him go. 

  


"Please don't touch me. I don't deserve this." Tony whispered. "Please. Please, Steve. Don't touch me, don't touch me...don't deserve it..." 

  


Steve didn't know what to say--the urge to protect, hot and strong and all-consuming, was welling up within him, wild and burning, but he couldn't put it into words and so he just squeezed Tony's hand for a second and prayed that at least some of his desire got across. 

  


Tony put his head in his hands. He looked so desolate and small in that moment that Steve began to shake from resisting the urge to cradle him close and protect him. 

  


"I want a beer." He murmured, looking up to meet Steve's eyes. He was crying. "Please, just get me a beer." 

  


"No, Tony." Steve replied, his voice gentle. "No beer, okay? No alcohol. It'll make everything worse later on." 

  


"Please," Tony begged, his voice getting desperate, "it hurts _now_. I just want the hurt to stop _now_." 

  


"That's what I'm here for." Steve said softly. "Come here, Tony. Let's get you into the shower. Come on..." 

  


He hugged Tony tight and stroked his sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. He turned around and began to fiddle with the shower, setting the temperature and water pressure as Tony undressed behind him. 

  


Steve smiled, satisfied, as he heard cloth falling to the floor. At least Tony was listening to him this time. 

  


"I'm not going to look." Steve teased. Tony snorted, and Steve couldn't help but sigh, relieved at the familiar derision. It sudden occurred to him that he had a very good card to play in keeping Tony in the shower, as well, and Steve smirked while his face was still hidden from Tony's view. 

  


"You know, Tony, I really hope you'll give yourself a nice, long shower." Steve said, adopting a deliberately light tone. "I'll be very disappointed if you don't. It might even make me cry." 

  


He heard Tony groan from behind him and knew he had succeeded. 

  


For a few minutes more, the two remained there together, Tony getting himself out of his clothes as Steve kept an eye on the water. 

  


"...Steve?" Tony suddenly asked, his voice loud in the quiet, small bathroom. 

  


"Yeah?" Steve replied, curious. Tony sounded...strange. Like he was hesitant, timid. 

  


"...Can we go back into the lab?" Tony murmured. "The...the arc reactor's fixed. I just want to work on the new suit a bit more." 

  


"Okay, Tony." Steve promised him. He couldn't say no. It was unfair to just lock him out of the lab, especially since the arc reactor readjustment period was obviously going to be stressful. But, since Tony had asked him for permission...that meant Steve could bargain a little; it meant Tony listened to him, wanted his approval. 

  


"But before you do," Steve warned him, "you need an hour's nap. After that, you can go back into the lab." He frowned. "And...then I think we need to talk a little, Tony." 

  


"No, we _don't_." Tony snapped. "It's nothing. I'm _fine_. I'm all right, Steve! It's just the side effects of putting in a new reactor--" 

  


"That isn't what I'm worried about, Tony," Steve began, uncomfortably aware of the fact that this discussion was occurring while Tony was standing in front of him in little more than black briefs, trying his best to ignore it despite the shivers running through his body making his skin much more warm than usual, "what really worried me was what you said. About someone ripping out the reactor." 

  


Tony flinched and backed away as if Steve had slapped him. He looked to the side, not meeting Steve's eyes, his whole body hunched over and tense. 

  


"I don't want to talk about it, Steve." Tony repeated. "I'm fine. I'm all right." 

  


"No you're not." Steve said simply. "I don't need all the answers, or a detailed confession, or anything. I just need to know what happened." He managed a small smile despite the pounding of his heart. "I'm here to help, Tony. But I can't do that if I don't know what to help you with." 

  


"You don't need to help with anything." Tony murmured. "S'stupid. Doesn't concern you. Just...just my problems." 

  


"Your problems are my problems, Tony. " Steve told him. "You're my friend. I take care of you. Which means I worry about you, all right?" 

  


Tony closed his eyes. 

  


"Why _bother_?" He whispered, his voice bleak. "Seriously, Steve, I'm, I'm so fucked up, and you--you, you're perfect, and--" 

  


"All the more reason to help you, then." Steve said, in a tone that effectively ended the argument. "But it doesn't matter, because I'm not perfect, Tony. I'm just here to help you as best as I can." He opened the shower door. "Now get in." 

  


Tony sighed and made his way past him, stripping completely as Steve looked away until the frosted glass door swung shut. It was only once Steve was sure he would get in and stay there that he left, unlocking the door and shutting it behind him. He waited outside the door to make sure Tony continued to shower, for about five minutes or so, until he was completely satisfied. 

  


His first task done, Steve took out some clean, fresh clothes for Tony to wear; something he could wake up and work on the suit while wearing, but still sleep comfortably in. He laid out a tank top and black sweatpants on the bed, leaving the rest up to Tony. 

  


Steve sighed and sat on his bed to wait for him. He wanted to make sure Tony rested, too. Odds were good that he'd just sneak down to the lab and tell JARVIS not to let him in, changing the access code or something. Steve couldn't help but be amused at how well he already knew Tony's habits, for better or worse. 

  



	20. Empathy and the Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and JARVIS have a talk. Tony is tucked in to sleep. A proposal is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little shorter but I did update just recently so there's that. Be content, darlings, I know you will be. Truthfully, not a lot to say about this chapter, save for that I guess Steve's finally getting fed up with everyone sort of throwing Tony on him and being like "save this" and he's like "what where were you the past thirty-odd years of his life" though I suppose JARVIS clears it up for him.  
> At any rate, next chapter will be longer and fluffier. I hope this one is still up to snuff!

The shower was still going after a few more minutes, and Steve couldn't help but smile. When Tony showered, he _really_ showered, it seemed. Not that Steve minded; the sound of the water was comforting, and he contented himself with hearing it fall on the tiles before, abruptly, it was turned off. Steve checked the clock; it had been ten minutes since Tony had gotten into the shower. Not bad. 

  


He turned towards the door expectantly, waiting for Tony to walk out in a towel--he would offer him the outfit he had picked and make sure that he got himself tucked into bed, and then he would probably just head downstairs and make them both something to eat; something that Tony could snack on in the lab, so he would have no excuse to refuse food... 

  


Tony walked out, all right, but, as Steve hazily noted before his mind promptly imploded in on itself, he had a towel around his shoulders, and absolutely nothing else. 

  


He didn't seem to notice Steve's presence in his room, either; not immediately. Tony sauntered over to the bed, content to drip-dry, like he had all the time in the world. His steps were slow and leisurely, and he glistened with the fresh warmth of having just showered. 

  


It was only once he reached the side of the bed that he seemed to grasp Steve was there. Tony didn't seem embarrassed in the slightest, though; he just sat down on the bed and stretched out, yawning. 

  


"You got me clothes?" He mumbled. "Hey, thanks." 

  


"...Uh." Steve said. He had seen naked men before, sure--he and the Commandos had taken showers wherever they could get them, and damn privacy, they were in the army--but, Tony, well...this was his house, and his right to privacy, and, er... 

  


"No trouble, Tony." He finished hurriedly. "Just, uh, glad I could help." He coughed and shifted on the bed, clearly nervous. "Um, I'm going to go make some snacks for us downstairs, for when you wake up, you know? That way you've got something to eat in the lab..." 

  


He trailed off, realizing Tony was sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at him like Steve had just slapped him. Steve tilted his head. 

  


"Tony?" He murmured. "Hey, Tony? What's wrong? Are you all right?" 

  


"Usually, people like being in my bed." Tony said, licking his lips nervously, his voice hoarse. "I...god, I haven't had a lover since I got this fucking thing in my chest..." He swallowed. 

  


"Is it that ugly, Steve?" He asked. "You looked so disgusted, and I just...I just thought, and I...I'm sorry, I'll put on a shirt--" 

  


"Tony, ssh." Steve said, trying not to sound as shocked as he was. Why would Tony think that he thought he was ugly? "You're..." He paused, trying to find the right words. 

  


Tony wasn't beautiful; he was too sharp, too suave, too rough around the edges to have the same sort of beauty as Peggy or Natasha. He wasn't cute, either, sweet and perky and bright like Pepper. Tony was... 

  


"You're handsome." Steve said simply. "You're, uh...pretty...pretty swell. I mean, y'know. You've got...nice muscles, and things." He was totally aware of his own flailing, and he hated himself for it; Tony still looked heartbroken. Steve had to find the right thing to say, quickly... 

  


"Tony, I think the reactor's beautiful." He told him. That was the first crack in the dam, it seemed; Tony perked up at that. Steve continued, relieved. "I think it's a marvel, you know? It's amazing. You're so clever, and you...you saved yourself, Tony. That reactor is the mark of your greatest strength; your tenacity and your brilliance." Steve smiled. "I think it's lovely. You don't have to be ashamed of it." 

  


They were both silent for a few minutes. Tony got dressed quietly, not looking at Steve. The reactor peeked out from beneath the white tank top, glowing warmly and humming with electrical pulses. 

  


"...May I draw it?" Steve asked politely. "I love drawing you in motion, but it's hard to keep the reactor in my line of sight. If you...would allow me to stay in here for awhile, maybe..." 

  


Tony watched him for a minute. Then he nodded, settling in under the covers, laying back against the piles of feather pillows and closing his eyes. 

  


"Dunno why you'd want to, but if you say so." Tony mumbled. "One thing, though. I want to see these sketches when you're done. Don't care if you haven't filled up the sketchbook." 

  


"Okay." Steve agreed, smiling with delight. "I'm going to go make those snacks first, though. You take a nap, Tony." 

  


"All right." Tony murmured, his breathing already slowing down. "See you soon, Steve." 

  


"See you." Steve replied. "Don't...don't worry, Tony, okay? You're not ugly. There's nothing wrong with you." He paused, thought for a second, and then stroked Tony's hair. "You don't always need to have a lover, you know. If you don't, it doesn't mean something's wrong." 

  


"Yes it does..." Tony mumbled, but before he could start bickering with Steve, he had fallen asleep. Evidently, Tony needed more sleep than Steve had previously assumed. He would have to work around that... 

  


Steve just sighed and shook his head. He would be quick with the snacks. He wanted to get back to looking at the reactor. If he couldn't touch it, he would at least recreate it for himself. 

  


...

Steve made the snacks quickly--a bowl of pretzels and popcorn, a small fruit platter with a dish of peanut butter, granola--high-protein things he knew Tony would eat, at least. It was something. 

  


Steve tilted his head as he set the plates down, considering something. JARVIS was wired all throughout the house, which meant...maybe he could ask JARVIS something? 

  


"JARVIS?" Steve called out, feeling rather silly for doing so. "Uh, while I'm making this stuff...can you give me some updates on...I don't know, Tony's condition?" 

  


There was a stretch of silence in which Steve gave himself ample time to feel like a complete moron. 

  


After that, a small silver knob in the kitchen table opened up to reveal what looked like a lens; a blue screen burst forth from it. Steve stared in amazement as a whole spread of data was laid out before him. 

  


" _Of course, Captain._ " JARVIS said. " _I have his vitals, the current output of the arc reactor, and a video of the room on call. I will leave them up for you, if you wish._ "

  


"Thanks so much," Steve said, smiling as he added, "and please call me Steve, JARVIS." 

  


" _As you wish, Steve_." JARVIS responded. " _Are you well? You look ill._ " 

  


"Just...just a little nervous about Tony." Steve confessed. He wasn't sure how human or empathetic JARVIS could be, since he was still working his way around machines in general, let alone Tony's technical genius, but he did know Tony and had spent plenty of time around him, which had to count for something. "What you said before..." 

  


" _I have indeed suggested therapists, sir._ " JARVIS replied. " _Tony is an incredibly stubborn man. I have known him for upwards of ten years now, and yet I am still not entirely at license to give him advice._ " JARVIS whirred for a second before adding, " _And yet, Captain, you are making remarkable strides. I applaud you for a job well done._ " 

  


"See, that's what everyone says!" Steve said, setting some bread down to begin making sandwiches. "Everyone's telling me how good of a job I'm doing with Tony, and I just--he's almost thirty-six, right? Why am I the first one to be doing this, JARVIS?" Steve demanded. "Why hasn't anyone _else_ taken care of him!?" 

  


JARVIS' tone sounded almost mournful as he replied, very quietly, " _I have tried, sir. As have Ms. Potts, Mr. Hogan, and Mr. Rhodes. We could not get through to him. I'm sorry,_ " he began, " _because I'm sure this is taxing upon you. But the truth is that none of us could do anything but keep him from outright killing himself until your arrival, sir._ " JARVIS whirred again. " _Truth be told, I suspect Anthony has always been waiting for you._ " 

  


"I know." Steve said firmly. "It's my duty to help him. I have to save him, JARVIS--you don't understand, I--Howard, and--" 

  


" _I do understand, sir._ " JARVIS responded. " _I know about Howard Stark and his previous infatuation with you. Some of the files Tony has on him discuss it. You do not owe either Howard or Tony your allegiance, you know this. You give it freely, Captain, and that is why it matters. You do not care because Anthony is rich, or powerful, or clever, or an old friend's son; you care because he is Tony Stark._ " 

  


"Does that really mean that much to him?" Steve asked, tilting his head. 

  


" _That you care about Tony simply because of who he is as a person?_ " JARVIS almost sounded amused. " _You would be one of the first that has done so. So yes, I would say it is very important to him._ " 

  


"...All right." Steve said. "I think everything's done. I'm going upstairs, JARVIS. Just, uh...if any of the others show up, let them in, but...could you just tell them Tony's sleeping, please?" 

  


" _Of course, sir_." JARVIS responded. " _I will oversee things. You take care of Anthony._ " 

  


"I will," Steve promised, and he could practically feel the machine brighten up; he decided that maybe JARVIS was just as human as he was, at least when it came to Tony, and as such, added warmly, "and, y'know, I wouldn't have gotten nearly as far as I have without you and his friends providing such a great foundation." 

  


" _Thank you, sir._ " JARVIS said. The small note of emotion in his voice was enough. 

  


Steve headed upstairs to see to Tony, the food waiting on the table until they both got back. 

  



	21. Reacting to the Reactor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve draws. Tony sleeps. The arc reactor and its importance are elucidated on in homoerotic asides. JARVIS knows where it's at. Steve is a material girl living in a material world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's a reason, yet again, for no updates, but it's one you'll like, I swear. I finally finished my Young Avengers Big Bang. Clocked in at 107k before editing and additions that will inevitably be made...which means, uh, holy fuck. But yeah. Once I'm allowed to, that'll be thrown up on A03. I promise. Which means yet another giant-ass fic for y'all to slog through--yay?  
> Anyways, this is kind of a longer chapter to apologize for the long delay. I literally have not been on line at all about anything for about four days straight due to wanting to finish the thing before the draft was due. Woops!  
> So, more of Steve being an adorable gentleman, JARVIS knows where it's at 'cause he is a smart robot, and Tony is Tony and sort of meandering through his life confused as to why people want to spend time around him. It happens.   
> At any rate...hope you all like this chapter! It settles a few more character points and the like, and...well, evidently Steve is a Madonna fan in the making. Hope that's a good mental image for y'all.

On the way into Tony's room, Steve stopped and picked out a few colored pencils from his room before making his way in; he wanted to be able to shade the color of the reactor, which was just as beautiful as the machine itself. 

  


Tony was asleep, still, as Steve entered the room. Steve couldn't help but smile at the serenity on Tony's face, and the soft light from the arc reactor that was the only light source in the room at the moment. It threw shadows about his face and chest, giving him an unearthly sort of handsomeness, illuminated by the azure glow. 

  


"JARVIS," Steve whispered, trying to keep his voice soft, "could you put the lights up a little?" 

  


JARVIS did as asked, making the room just bright enough to draw in. Steve sighed, relieved, and took out his pencils, opening up his sketchbook. 

  


For a few minutes, he contented himself with Tony's sleeping face, sketching out the soft shadows on his cheekbones and the tilt of his chin as he laid back against the pillows; simple things, little practices in anatomy and shading. He felt...almost frightened to draw the reactor. It was so intimate... 

  


Steve shook his head. It was what he had come into Tony's room to draw--he had to draw it. Plain and simple. 

  


He frowned and bit his lip. He didn't want Tony to catch cold, though. If he pulled back the blankets... 

  


"JARVIS, could you warm the room up a little?" He asked. "I don't want Tony to freeze." 

  


If he hadn't known better, he would've sworn the little hum that emitted from JARVIS as he fiddled with the thermostat was a hum of amusement. 

  


"Thank you." He said quietly, getting back to Tony. Steve's hands were gentle as he pulled the blanket back, as careful as he could be, settling the soft cloth into a small pile on Tony's lower abdomen. He blinked, surprised, as he finally realized he was staring right into the arc reactor, in all its mechanical glory. 

  


He had been right--it was intimate. Not in a twisted way, but...the simple truth was that Steve was very much aware of the fact that he could see Tony's chest in stunning detail. His strong lines of muscle, the flat pale pink of his nipples, and in the center, throwing an alien glow about all of it, the arc reactor. 

  


Steve swallowed and gripped his pencil. He had to get this done. 

  


His pencil skated over the thick paper almost of its own accord as he took in Tony's sleeping form, practically devouring every part of him, saving the picture away for later, if he so wished to recall this moment. He knew he would. It was beautiful, to see Tony like this--so vulnerable that it hurt Steve to know that this was what lurked underneath the armor Tony had built. He wanted to keep Tony safe. He could do it better than any armor, he knew that... 

  


He shook his head and continued to observe Tony. His stubble was getting darker on his face--Steve didn't mind, but it was just another signifier that he had been working more than sleeping or showering. He would let Tony know when he awoke. 

  


Steve couldn't help but smile as he considered how sweet and delicate Tony managed to look in his sleep despite the bags underneath his eyes and the stubble on his face. Only Tony could look both angelic and bedraggled as he laid in bed. 

  


Steve realized he had gotten in the rest of Tony at that point--all of Tony's little quirks and marks and muscles, the stubble shaded dark on the paper--and yet, upon his chest, there remained a hole for the arc reactor. 

  


Steve sighed. He had to look at it. He had to observe it with all of his skill and eye for detail. He wanted to, anyway. He was...fascinated by it. 

  


He looked at the wiring and metal, shaking his head in awe. This was what kept Tony alive, he thought, sketching in the framework for the reactor. It was just a little glowing halo that kept Tony around to be beside him. To talk to him. To laugh with him. To smile for him... 

  


Steve wanted to touch it so badly that the craving was a physical ache within his chest. He wanted to stroke the scars around it with tender care, caressing them as best as he could, letting Tony know that he wasn't a freak and that he deserved the same human touch as anyone else. He wanted to touch the reactor itself, feel the power beneath his fingertips and understand how strong it was, so that he could trust it with the all-important task of keeping his Tony safe. He wanted to know how it ticked; he wanted to see just what kept Tony alive. He wanted to be familiar with it. 

  


But he kept his distance, because Tony had asked him to. Steve was a patient man; he could wait. Tony was worth waiting for. 

  


Steve blinked and shook his head. He...he was acting strange around Tony lately. He had to talk to Coulson or Clint. They knew what loving a man was like. Perhaps they could explain this. He couldn't, and it frightened him, just a little. 

  


He had to focus. He had to draw Tony, like he had asked... 

  


Steve grit his teeth and began to shade in the rest of the reactor. His eyes never left the glowing circle in Tony's chest, devouring it with his gaze. The mystifying device that kept Tony alive to be around him, glowing a sickly blue as Steve shaded the colors in with thin pencils. 

  


In its own way, it kept Steve alive as well; the truth was that without Tony, Steve would be a shadow of himself, if that. Steve was unsure how to feel about this, but acceptance of that fact was necessary for the time being. So he did, with naught but a sigh and a shake of the head as he finished up the shading. 

  


As Steve surveyed his picture, he smiled and judged it good. It captured everything he had wanted to capture about Tony...now the trick was making sure Tony loved it. 

  


So Steve, having seen the veritable mountains of memorabilia that Tony possessed, did the only thing he thought logical; he autographed the picture. 

  


_"To Anthony Stark, with all my love--Captain Steve Rogers."_

  


He couldn't help but chuckle warmly as he set the sketchbook at the foot of Tony's bed and checked the clock. Tony had a half hour left to sleep. Steve would leave him to it and go straighten up the lab for him a little. 

  


...

Tony stirred and blinked as JARVIS' low, warm alarm began to ring in his ear. He grumbled and shifted in bed, muttering, "I'm up, JARVIS." 

  


" _I am aware, Anthony_." JARVIS said. " _The Captain is downstairs. He is in the lab waiting for you. However, he left his sketchbook for you on your bed. I advise you wait until you are down in the lab to look at things, however; it seems fair to let him see your reaction, doesn't it?"_

  


"I suppose." Tony agreed. "Still, I'm impressed; he left me with his sketchbook." Tony smiled. "That means a lot, right?" 

  


" _Indeed it does, sir_." JARVIS responded. " _I would be grateful if I were you._ " 

  


"I'm just grateful he likes me." Tony mumbled. "This is...too good to be true, JARVIS. I don't know what to do." 

  


" _Enjoy it, sir._ " JARVIS replied. " _And do not let your tendencies to destroy relationships harm this one. This is the best thing that has ever happened to you, sir. I care about you, Anthony--very much so. I do not want you to lose this._ " 

  


"Right, well," Tony muttered, heart aching as he got out of bed, "I haven't even had a cup of coffee, I don't need you lecturing me on my feelings." 

  


" _I know, sir_." JARVIS responded. " _Still, give it some consideration, won't you?_ " 

  


"Okay, _okay_!" Tony told him. "Jesus, just let me have a cup of coffee!" 

  


" _Already brewed, sir_." JARVIS said. " _I suggest you and the sketchbook join the Captain in the lab._ " 

  


"Thanks, smart-ass." Tony muttered. JARVIS simply hummed, low and electric as Tony made his way downstairs, clutching the sketchbook like a mother with her child. 

  
....

Steve had enjoyed being down in Tony's lab; JARVIS had guided him through the general maze of wires and the endless labyrinth of cars and motorcycles, rattling off models Steve had never heard of but was intrigued by. He would have to talk to Tony about taking them out for a ride on one of the motorcycles; Steve was proud of his skill with motorbikes, and the idea of Tony clinging to him as they roared throughout the familiar Brooklyn streets was intoxicating. 

  


Steve took about fifteen minutes to make his way through most of the lab on a superficial level, even with JARVIS explaining a few of the inventions; he gave Tony his privacy on most of them, though. If Tony wished to divulge his work to him, it would be between the two of them. Steve smiled at the thought; nights spent in the lab (not too late, of course), just sitting and talking to Tony about anything and everything, listening to him wax eloquent on his work...it was...it was everything he had ever wanted out of life, albeit in a different style than he had expected. 

  


Truth be told, as confused as Steve was by the superficial differences of life in the future, (he reminded himself to quit referring to it as "the future," since he figured it didn't help his perception), he was relatively adjusted to the people that inhabited it. People did not change, he had noticed. 

  


There were still bad men and bullies; always would be. Loki, those freaks called A.I.M. that Coulson had mentioned awhile back in a briefing, H.Y.D.R.A.'s newest divisions, Doctor Doom...villains were still around. Time hadn't changed them. 

  


But there were still good people and heroes. The Avengers. The Fantastic Four. The X-Men. And, tantamount in Steve's mind, there was Tony Stark. He was, at heart, a good man. All of his futurist trappings couldn't hide the very warm, very real, and very human heart that beat beneath the reactor. 

  


So Steve might be confused by pop music and the current Progressive movement and the state of the economy and all of the technology that permeated his waking hours so easily and effortlessly that he forgot that he was the only one unused to the existence of an iPod, but he was never, ever confused about the people around him. They were still the same as they had always been. 

  


Time had not destroyed people and their immense capacity to both care and cause catastrophe, and for that, Steve was both grateful and emboldened to work towards ending the catastrophe that humanity inevitably brought about. It gave him a familiar foothold, being around people. 

  


Steve smiled, content, and looked up a little. Even though JARVIS wasn't around as a physical presence, he always tried to make eye contact with the ceiling or something nearby, out of force of habit. 

  


"JARVIS?" Steve asked. "If you could put some music on? Something new. Something you think I would like...?" 

  


" _Of course, sir_." JARVIS responded. " _I doubt you would be a fan of most of Anthony's music. Perhaps I can find you something he has in his databanks anyway_..." 

  


A soft whirring. Then a mechanized chuckle of amusement. 

  


" _He won't be happy I've still got this file,_ " JARVIS told him, " _but I think you'll enjoy this_." 

  


So it was that Tony came down into his lab with a cup of coffee a minute or so later and found Steve singing along to "Material Girl," entirely content and unaware he was now in possession of an audience. To be honest, Tony couldn't help but smile at the sight; it was adorable, like a little girl lipsyncing to her favorite song. Though he would _never_ tell Steve that... 

  


"I told you to get rid of that song, JARVIS," was his only response, before he added, "he sings it pretty decently for a guy, though." 

  


" _I thought so as well_." JARVIS remarked, clearly amused--as amused as a machine could be, anyway. " _Perhaps you should tell him you are here before he attempts hip swiveling again._ " 

  


"I think telling him I'm here can wait until after that." Tony teased, but he let himself into the lab anyway, setting the sketchbook down as his way of greeting Steve. The other man jumped halfway out of his skin before hurriedly trying to preen as if he hadn't just been dancing. 

  


"I'm going on a shopping spree tonight and just buying you the hell out of some records." Tony remarked, sitting on a stool beside Steve. "Seriously, you missed out on some amazing music. Did Coulson tell you about the Beatles? Elvis? Joan Jett? Anything?" 

  


"Uh, no." Steve murmured. "I'd love to listen to some new music, though..." 

  


"JARVIS, go on Amazon and just pick me up every CD you can find released by any artist you think Steve would like from the fifties to today. And, y'know, the touchstones. Madonna, clearly," he shot a smirk at Steve, who just glared at him halfheartedly, "and Michael Jackson, Janis Joplin, you know. The big names." 

  


" _I'll do what I can, sir._ " JARVIS remarked. " _Are you going to be working on the suit tonight?_ " 

  


"Yeah, pull out some of the plans. I need to refine the chestpiece for the new suit, put that out front and center." Tony told him. "But before I do that, I want to look at this sketchbook..." 

  


" _As you wish, sir._ " JARVIS said politely. " _I will leave you and the Captain to your amateur art critiquing._ " 

  


"Thanks, JARVIS." Tony said. "Steve?" 

  


He was quiet as he perched himself on the edge of the lab table, watching Tony intently. 

  


"...Go ahead." He murmured, pushing the sketchbook closer to him. "I just...uh, I hope you like everything." 

  


"I'm sure I will." Tony said idly, as if there was no doubt in his mind already that he would. "I won't tell you until I'm done, though." 

  


"All right." Steve agreed. "Take your time, Tony. We've got all night." 

  


That settled, the two of them sat there for a long, long time, as Tony opened the sketchbook up and began to look. 

  



	22. Drawn out Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony looks at the drawings Steve gave him. There is a discussion. Tony reveals more than intended. Steve and Tony have bonding moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Standardized tests are a bitch, but if there is a god, I did well. So that's that, and also why, yet again, I didn't update for a few days. As is life. I am so sorry about irregular updates but since I am not paid to write this and people seem to think that other shit matters than homoerotic tension and the feels I have for my fandoms, erroneous as that is, I am forced to submit to their whims and go to school and do homework and junk. Anywho.   
> So, feels! Lots of feels! ROLLING IN THE FEELS. And I sort of depressed myself with this chapter and inspired fluff hurt/comfort that will get written on that magic day in which I have the time to do so. At any rate. Hope this chapter is up to snuff--it gets things moving a little more and adds in my favorite trope-slash-guilty pleasure of sketchbook confessionals. Steve is tailor made for those.

Tony didn't say a word to Steve, but his thoughts were in turmoil and his heart was pounding so hard it was a miracle that alone didn't give him away as he looked at the sketchbook. 

  


All of the pictures were of him. Every half-finished scribble, every fully-shaded work of pencils and charcoal, all the small doodles and cartoons...every last one of them was of him. He would be working on the suit in one shot, leaning against the lab table and drinking coffee in the next; his goggles around his neck in one shot, a test repulsor wrapped around his hand in the next. To see himself laid out like that in so many quick snapshots of his life in the lab was...jarring, to say the least, but not unpleasant. 

  


He was smiling in one picture; he didn't recognize it for a second, but once he did, he realized with a jolt that it was the exact outfit he had been wearing the first time he had met Steve, back at S.H.I.E.L.D., and taken him home. Steve had remembered. 

  


Tony's hands were shaking as he continued to flip through the sketchbook. So many pictures of the suit; bits and pieces, usually, an arm here, a faceplate there, a leg or chestpiece beside them...but never an arc reactor. Tony knew why, of course, but part of him was a little surprised anyway, given how intrigued Steve was by the device. 

  


As he went further into the pieces--there were only about twenty pages filled up, after all--he finally came to rest on the one of him within the reactor replacement machine. 

  


His heart twinged with guilt; Steve's panic and fear for his safety were evident in his rough, harsh strokes of the graphite, and he drew the machine as if it was a beast about to devour him whole. Tony couldn't help but feel a surge of recognization as he looked at how Steve had drawn him; in contrast to his normal way of drawing him as warm, vibrant, focused and alive, he had drawn him as sickly, pale, and frightened. It was like the captain had peeled off the carapace of both the suit and the man Tony purported to be to look at the broken mess within. 

  


The next page looked as if it had some color on it. Curious and eager to get away from the brutal honesty presented to him on the page he was looking at, Tony flipped to the next page--and almost dropped the sketchbook. 

  


Steve had drawn him while he was sleeping. That wasn't what particularly concerned Tony. It was the reactor. 

  


The way he had drawn and shaded the reactor within him spoke of everything that the reactor _was_ to Tony. It was something completely alien that managed to embed itself within him, a mark of his sickness as much as it was his strength, something both painful, miserable, and altogether a sign of his failure and yet something that gave him power, a goal, a purpose--and success. 

  


It kept him alive. And to live, in his case, was to remain inherently flawed and screwed up, a mass of neuroses and a broken spirit, held together with the tattered twine of his fraying nerves and half-rusted chains of self esteem...and yet, among everything, a desire to carry on and do better, by both the world and himself, kept it all together. 

  


Tony knew that. And judging by the picture, so did Steve. 

  


His trembling fingers stroked the reactor on the page as carefully as possible, afraid he would smudge the drawing. Steve didn't protest, even as Tony ran his hands down a little more, simply exploring the picture at this point in wonder. 

  


There was a silence in the room neither of them quite knew how to break. 

  


Then Tony spied the autograph on the bottom of the page. 

  


The dam broke, and he began to laugh uproariously, shaking his head as he set the sketchbook down on the table. 

  


"Oh, god. I totally recognize that autograph." Tony said, trying not to keep laughing as he pointed to it. "It's on every piece of Captain America memorabilia I own! Oh my _god_ , Steve, that was really your autograph?" 

  


"Uh, I think it was at first." Steve murmured, both relieved that Tony loved the picture and frustrated as to why he didn't want to broach the subject. He had wanted to at least open the floodgates a little and talk some more... "But y'know, I'm sure most of those were reproductions. I thought...maybe you'd want an original." 

  


"It's amazing." Tony said simply. "Thanks." 

  


There was another silence for a minute or two. 

  


"...So," Steve finally ventured, "what do you think of the...the pictures?" 

  


Tony looked at him suddenly, and his gaze made Steve's heart seize up. It summed up all his pain and fear and despair so neatly, yet alongside that, there was acceptance, happiness, and hope... 

  


Tony smiled. That spoke of far more than any words could have said. 

  


"It..." Tony mused, trying to sum it up for Steve anyway, "it was...I...I've never...I've never seen someone who understands the reactor and what it means like you do, Steve. You did such a good job it hurts, to be honest. I don't...I don't know what to say to you." 

  


"You don't need to say anything." Steve said gently. "But, maybe..." He sighed. 

  


"Could I please...at least know why I can't touch it, Tony?" He asked. "If you're not ready, I understand, but--but machines have to be tempered by a human hand, Tony, and that machine--it hurt you!" Steve cried. "I can't let that happen if there's something I can do to help it, and Pepper said she used to help you with it before, and I--I could, I just...please tell me why I can't, Tony. I just need to know." He begged. 

  


Tony didn't look at him for a minute. 

  


Then he sighed, a deep, heavy, and lonely sigh, shaking his head and putting a hand protectively over his arc reactor. 

  


"I had a friend--well, dad had a friend," he began, "whose name was Obadiah Stane. He was a close business associate and I trusted him. Well, as much as I ever trust anyone." 

  


"Do...do you trust me, Tony?" Steve asked. He knew it might not have been the time or place, but he had to know. 

  


Tony shifted in his seat. He looked almost hesitant to answer. Steve bit his lip and kept his face neutral despite his shaking hands and sudden nausea. 

  


"I..." Tony swallowed. "Let me finish the story. Then I'll...explain." He murmured. 

  


Steve nodded, but he could feel his heart breaking already. Tony didn't trust him. He understood, sure, but...but, he had...and oh, _god_. 

  


"Anyways, after my little fiasco in Afghanistan, Obadiah tried to steal the company from me because I was suffering from PTSD or...something, I don't know." Tony shrugged. "He wanted the arc reactor and the armor. I sure as hell wasn't going to hand it over..." He swallowed. His hands were shaking. 

  


"So one night, Obadiah used this machine to paralyze me and ripped the reactor out of my chest." Tony said. It was matter-of-fact, but the pain behind his words was obvious. "I...I almost died. It was...it was, I..." Tony swallowed again, looking ill. Steve didn't care if Tony didn't trust him; he was beside him, his hands over Tony's, warm and comforting as he squeezed his hands gently. 

  


"It's okay." Steve said gently. "I'm sure it was scary." 

  


"I thought I was dead," Tony whispered, his voice harsh and high with pain, "and I--I just, I'd trusted him, and he, he hated me, Steve, _everyone_ hates me--" 

  


"They _do not_ , Tony!" Steve snapped, unable to stop the anger in his tone. "I don't hate you! I could _never, ever_ hate you! Not in a million years!" 

  


Tony didn't speak. Steve held him tight and shook his head. He was grateful that Tony trusted him enough, it seemed, to at least let him hold him. It was a start. Now he had to show Tony he would keep him safe...that Tony could trust him... 

  


"I'm sure that was a horrible experience, Tony, and I understand." He said quietly. "You don't have to let me touch the reactor. I understand if you don't trust me yet, and I'm okay with waiting. But don't let it color your opinions of everyone else you meet. No one else is going to hurt you. Not while the Avengers are around. Not...not while I'm around, okay?" 

  


Steve hovered his hand over the reactor; close, but not so close he would frighten him. 

  


"I'll protect you." He promised. "I'll always protect you. And I'll keep this safe, too. No matter what." 

  


Tony still hadn't said a word. His breath was warm as he inhaled and exhaled a few times, slow and soft. 

  


"I...I don't think you get it, Steve." Tony said softly. "It's not that I don't trust you. It's that, I mean...I don't trust _me_. I mean, maybe Obadiah was right; I'm unstable and unhealthy, and too screwed up to run much of anything...I don't...I don't think I'm making the right choices, or doing the best things, or...or anything, really. I just seem to keep fucking up constantly, and I don't...I don't want you involved in that. The arc reactor is the biggest fuck-up of all; why do you want to be so close to it?" Tony asked. "I mean, Christ." 

  


The two of them were silent for awhile. Tony didn't try to leave Steve's embrace. For that, at least, he was grateful. 

  


"Tony, the arc reactor is the only reason you're alive today, right?" Steve asked quietly. Tony nodded. 

  


"Without the arc reactor, then, I would have never met you." Steve told him. "I wouldn't be here right now, finally finding a place for myself in the future. You wouldn't be alive--and truth be told, then neither would I." Steve murmured. "I want to be close to the reactor because it's what keeps me close to you. It made sure...you'd be here for me when I got back." Steve smiled. "Consider it a thank-you, almost." 

  


Tony closed his eyes. Steve let him have a moment. 

  


"I..." He swallowed. "I'm not going to need a replacement for another month or so." Tony said, looking away, clearly nervous. "But I think it could use a minor upgrade sometime tomorrow." He gestured to the blueprints on the desk. "If I walk you through it, you could help me, maybe?" 

  


It was a timid offer, subtle and shy, but Steve ate it up, delighted.

  


"I'd love to." He said eagerly. "Don't worry, Tony. From now on, you're going to be safe. I promise. You'll have me." 

  


"I...I will." Tony murmured. "I...hey, Steve?" He asked. 

  


"Yeah?" Steve replied. 

  


Tony finally looked at him again, and this time, the love in his eyes was so blatant even Steve could see it. 

  


It was then that he knew, pretty much without question, that Tony Stark was in love with him. 

  


And it was then, in a deep, secret part of himself, that he accepted it--maybe even, in a part of himself he couldn't quite own up to yet, rejoiced about it. 

  


"I do trust you." Tony whispered. "I would trust you with my life." 

  


Steve knelt and picked up the shield, which had been left in the lab by Pepper for Tony to make adjustments on this morning. He put it in Tony's hands and watched as his eyes widened, shocked, at finally getting to hold Captain America's shield. 

  


"And I would trust you with mine." Steve told him. "So, show me how to upgrade this?" 

  


They talked well into the night, only stopping to come upstairs and meet everyone, just before continuing their discussion over dinner and letting everyone else hog the television so the could retire up to Tony's room unnoticed. Steve didn't even mind that they went to bed at one in the morning. The more time spent with Tony, the better. 

  



	23. Colonel and the Captain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey finally shows up. Steve watches cartoons. Tony is just hopelessly smitten. Rhodey plans and watches and waits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! The start of what is basically the "Rhodey Arc," because honestly, I don't see Rhodey as much as I'd like when Tony/Steve comes up. He's far too instrumental to Tony's life to not get involved in what's probably, like, Tony's first healthy relationship. Besides, they are true bros, and I love them both, so...so here you go? And Rhodey's still a Colonel, iirc. My memory's terrible, but the movie seems to prove this for me...  
> At any rate, ugh. Babies. Just all of them. And Steve would probably like MLP, to be honest; the adorable friendship messages would make him all fluffy-happy and then he would make Loki sit down to learn morals from it and that is actually amazing and if I had time I might write it.  
> Seriously, I need to have more time to do everything I want to do, which is write ALL THE THINGS EVERYWHERE.  
> Anyways, I hope this chapter's a good intro to the next arc. Don't worry, the reactor hasn't been shelved as a plot device, it's just getting interwound into this arc, so to speak. I hope it comes out okay. <3

Rhodey had plenty of experience with Tony Stark and his sleeping habits. 

  


He let himself into the house at noon and promptly started another pot of coffee; from the looks of things, everyone who had left the apparent hurricane behind in the kitchen had drank all of the first dozen pots that had most likely been made, and took out the kind of creamer Tony preferred before toasting a bagel in the toaster and sitting down at the kitchen table. 

  


"Hey, JARVIS." He greeted the AI. "How's Tony been? I heard he's got some new teammate staying at his house." 

  


" _Indeed he does, sir._ " JARVIS responded. " _He is doing much, much better, mostly due to said teammate. You'll like him, James. He is a good man._ " 

  


"You have to have the patience of a saint and the goodwill of Jesus himself to stay with Tony, so I am not entirely surprised." Rhodey remarked. "Could you go wake him up? I haven't seen him in awhile, and I'd like to see him today sometime before dinner." 

  


" _He is already awake, sir_." JARVIS replied. " _However, he is...having a discussion._ " He whirred. " _Still, you are high on his list of priorities; I am certain he will be down shortly. Let me alert him to your arrival..._ " 

  


"Thanks, JARVIS." Rhodey said. "Oh, and tell him the coffee's ready. That'll get him down here pretty fast." 

  


" _Most certainly, sir._ " JARVIS agreed. Rhodey settled in to wait at the kitchen table, amused. The sun was shining in through the window, he was here to see Tony, and he was, in all honesty, pretty content. 

  


...

Steve had, in the interest of being a gentleman, (though he had not said this aloud, because he assumed, correctly, that Tony would laugh at him for it), retired to his own bedroom for the night, but by eight the next morning, he was in Tony's room, sitting on the vast bed that could have easily supported Tony, himself, and half of S.H.I.E.L.D. as well. He decided to watch TV. 

  


Tony awoke about a half-hour later, as the credits to the cartoon Steve had found and enjoyed rolled--it reminded him of the bright, cheerful cartoons he had watched in the theatres during the Depression, and he still had a soft spot for cute animals. 

  


"Morning, soldier." Tony mumbled, blinking blearily and rubbing his eyes as the ending themesong blared in his ears. Steve smiled down at him and turned off the television. 

  


"Good morning, Tony." Steve said gently. "Sleep well?" 

  


"Mhm." Tony said, yawning and stretching out in bed as he flopped back down on the pillows. "Pep already off to work?" 

  


"Yes..." Steve stretched out beside him, settling in comfortably on the down pillows. "The others are out shopping for things for my room. They've decided we ought to have a housewarming celebration. Thor is using it as an excuse for a feast, I think." 

  


"That surprises me exactly none," Tony grumbled, "and honestly, I don't care, so long as we don't trash the house beyond repair." 

  


"And by that you mean we're allowed to destroy everything but the lab." Steve teased. Tony snorted, amused. 

  


"Yeah, obviously." He replied. "Well, the lab and your room. I know your art means a lot to you." 

  


Steve smiled, pleased. Tony laid down next to him and closed his eyes, peaceful. 

  


"Well, I don't think Rhodey's showing up until noon...so we've got awhile." Tony rolled over, his eyes suddenly sparkling with amusement. "Mind telling me why you were watching _My Little Pony_?" 

  


"I--I, well--I like cartoons!" Steve defended himself. "Disney was still around back in my day, you know!" 

  


"Yeah, but still..." Tony laughed. "C'mon, Steve. Ponies." 

  


"Hey, if you watched an episode..." 

  


The two of them discussed the finer points of magical talking horses for awhile, until it occurred to Tony to put in one of the newer Disney movies. 

  


For awhile, they settled in and watched some movies; Steve was clearly entranced by the modern animation, which, as it had just suddenly occurred to Tony, made sense; he was an artist. It was a careful examination of another artist's work...that involved, yet again, talking animals. 

  


Still, they couldn't stay quiet; even as the movies continued to play on, the two of them discussed things over them. Small things, but sweet ones; little insights into Steve's opinions and past life that Tony ate up ravenously. He had worshiped the myth of Captain America for long enough; now he really wanted to know Steve Rogers, the man behind the mighty shield. 

  


The movie played on, mostly forgotten, as Tony laid in bed with Steve, half-dressed, and realized privately that it was the first time anyone had been in bed with him since the arc reactor, and the first time anyone had been in bed with him non-sexually since he had hit puberty. 

  


It wasn't such a bad thing, really. 

  


Tony smiled. Steve let him have that private moment of happiness, but the way he squeezed Tony's hand quickly afterwards told Tony that he was just as happy as he was. 

  
...

JARVIS's voice telling him, " _"James is here, Anthony,"_ came as a complete shock to Tony, who had a terrible grasp of time in the first place. He jumped, surprised, and checked the clock before groaning.  


"Oh my god, we've been here for four hours?" He said, shaking his head. "Jesus, no wonder my throat's sore. And I haven't even had a cup of coffee." 

  


"We'll go have one now." Steve told him. "Come on, I really would like to meet him..." 

  


"I'm just glad to see him again." Tony confessed, getting out of bed and putting a shirt on for some vague pretense at modesty. Why he figured Rhodey needed that pretense and not Steve was a matter blatantly obvious to everyone save Steve himself, of course. "I mean, the Initiative is great and all, but shit, I haven't seen him since...since awhile ago, honestly. A few months..." 

  


"Well, as important as this is..." Steve said quietly, "your friends are more important, Tony." 

  


"Yeah." Tony remarked. "The few I still have, anyway." 

  


He sighed and opened the door, heading down the hallway before Steve could protest or comfort him. With a sigh of his own, Steve followed after him, shivering as he realized that Tony's room had been much warmer than the hallway outside. The two made their way downstairs quickly, and Tony groaned in relief as he inhaled, the scent of coffee permeating his senses. 

  


"Oh, and he made coffee," Tony said dreamily, "I could kiss him, I really could." 

  


Steve followed Tony into a kitchen and carefully observed the man sitting there. He had warm, clever eyes, and he looked relaxed and at ease sitting at the kitchen table, but there was a measure of steel in his spine that spoke of an army background. 

  


He watched Steve, and he could tell that the other man was observing him too, judging him to see if he was worthy of Tony's company. Steve respected that. It meant the other man cared about Tony, too. He wasn't worried about being judged--he was sure anyone could see how much he cared for Tony. 

  


"Colonel James Rhodes." He finally introduced himself. "Call me Rhodey. Nice to meet you, mister...?" 

  


"Rogers." Steve said. "Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you too, Rhodey." He smiled. "Tony's been talking about you all week. I'm very glad I finally get to see you." 

  


"Same here, Steve." Rhodey said, unable to stop a small grin from crossing his lips. "All I've heard is "Cap this" and "Cap that," and Tony wouldn't stop gushing about you if I'd paid him." He chuckled. "Though to be fair, money doesn't matter too much to Tone, does it?"

  


"Oh, shush." Tony muttered, slugging back half the cup of coffee in a single swig before refilling his mug. "You're conspiring against me already," he said mournfully, "I expected better of you, Steve." 

  


Steve grinned and laughed, getting them all orange juice, (which Tony glared at before drinking with a look from Steve) and cracking some eggs in the pan, frying them as Tony and Rhodey caught up in excited, eager tones. 

  


"So, Fury actually let him stay? Huh. He didn't seem the type to bend to requests." Rhodey said, raising his eyebrows as Steve set plates down in front of all of them and slid into the seat next to Tony. 

  


"Yes, he let me stay." Steve said, sounding a little surprised himself, even after the fact. "He did ask for a report sometime next week, which seems fair enough to me. I've only been here for...oh, this will be the fourth day?" 

  


"Yeah, fourth day, I think." Tony agreed, yawning widely and lounging back in his chair. "Still, I'm as shocked as you are, Rhodey. I didn't think he'd say yes, either." Tony remarked. Steve raised an eyebrow. 

  


"Were you really planning to fight him if he had refused?" Steve asked. 

  


Tony put his coffee down and looked at him. Steve knew the answer already, but a thrill lanced up his spine at the sound of Tony's voice, strong and true, replying simply; "Yes." 

  


There was silence in the kitchen for a second. Steve's eyes were shining. Tony's heart leapt in his chest as Steve smiled. 

  


"...I would have, too." Steve murmured after a moment more of silence. "But, uh, perhaps not as...forcefully as you. He is the Director, after all." 

  


"See, you care about that shit." Tony said, and there was no contempt in his voice; just pure affection. "I don't. It's why I was willing to go to bat for the both of us." He smiled. "I mean, it's the least I can do, huh? You deserve that much, Steve." 

  


"...I...oh. Thank you, Tony." Steve mumbled, smiling and looking pleased as punch. Rhodey raised an eyebrow. He didn't say a word; he just watched the two of them for a minute. 

  


"So, Tony and I have been meaning to go to the park for a day or two now, and the weather's finally getting nice," Steve suddenly offered, "would that be all right with you if all three of us went, Rhodey?" 

  


"That'd be fine, Cap." Rhodey said, standing up and slugging back the last of his orange juice. "We'll walk. There's a park not too far from here, in fact."

  


"Okay." Steve smiled. "Let me just go get my sketchbook. I'll be right back!" He promised, slipping out of the room and heading upstairs in seconds, leaving Tony and Rhodey standing together in the kitchen, side by side. 

  


Neither of them said a word for a minute. 

  


"You're in love with him." Rhodey said, taking a sip of Tony's coffee. 

  


"Yep." Tony agreed, helpless to lie. 

  


The two stood there for awhile longer. 

  


"Does he know?" Rhodey asked. 

  


"No." Tony snorted derisively. "Jesus, do you think I'm an idiot?" 

  


"Will you ever tell him?" Rhodey asked. There was something stirring in him, fierce and possessive, and he had to choke it down as fast as he could once Tony responded.

  


"Maybe." Tony shrugged. "It doesn't matter, Rhodey. He's here with me now. He _likes_ me. He wants to be with _me_. He's my _friend_. This is...this is every dream I ever had coming true, and then some. It's going to be all right, Rhodey. He's here. I waited, and he came." Tony's eyes were shining as he hastily looked away. "He came." He repeated, his voice reverent. "For me, Rhodey." 

  


"I know, Tone." Rhodey said gently. "Take it slow. You've got all the time in the world now, right?" 

  


"Yeah." Tony agreed. "He's a good man, isn't he, Rhodey?" 

  


"Yeah, sure he is." Rhodey said, ruffling Tony's hair. "Nothing but the best for you, huh?" 

  


"Hey, quit it!" Tony groaned in protest, but he was laughing, delighted, and Rhodey hugged him tight. The worry was gone, but it would come back...and he would have to be ready. For the moment, though, he could enjoy the feel of Tony, safe and sound against him. 

  


"Yeah." Rhodey murmured. "Nothin' but the best, Tony. That's exactly what you need..."

  


The two fell silent as Steve came back into the kitchen with a small leather satchel slung over his arm. Pencils rattled inside of it, and they could see the corner of a sketchbook sticking up out of the bag. He grinned. 

  


"Okay, I'm ready to go!" He told them. "I just wanted to bring my sketchbook along. Y'know, so I could observe a little. Parks are great for watching people." 

  


"They are." Tony agreed, leading them out of the house and out the door, walking down the winding driveway and past the gates, onto the streets of New York and heading for the park. "So let's go see what we can see, Steve." 

  



	24. Senor Sparklenose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gives the general population cavities. Rhodey and Steve have a spat over who gets to mother hen Tony more. Tony is just generally oblivious. Also, they plot to buy a unicorn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real life needs to seriously stop because I do not have time for fanfic, and this is starting to annoy me. I can't even keep apologizing, I sound dumb. I am doing my very best to keep updates flowing at a semi-regular rate...I am just so damn busy. I don't know what to do...  
> Anyways, my life problems aside--hey, suddenly; intro to angst! Next chapter, though, haha. I still hope this one's up to snuff despite being a bit short...I never plan how I'm formatting chapters as I go, which means some chapters are five thousand words and some are fifteen hundred. Woops.  
> At any rate; Rhodey starts to get all huffy! It's pretty much one big contest over who gets to mother hen Tony more. And to be honest they both should do it because Tony needs all the mother hens he can get.   
> Also ugh Steve you are so cute it hurts my teeth to write you. God damn boy, think of my dental bills!

Steve chattered on about how the city had been back in the 1940s, much to the amusement of Tony and Rhodey both; it wasn't that he was _trying_ to sound old, it was that he simply couldn't help himself. It was, Tony thought privately, adorable. 

  


"And that building over there was a nice, tiny restaurant, not some...some, I don't know, what's the word...hot coucher..." 

  


" _Haute couture_ , Steve." Tony said, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "It's very French. Artsy. You'd like it if you gave it a try." 

  


"I fought with Frenchmen, back in the war," Steve said primly, "brave men in the Resistance. They wouldn't be interested in this, and neither am I." 

  


"It's got cinnamon bread." Rhodey cajoled him. "C'mon, you can suffer a bit of newfangled culture for cinnamon bread, right?" 

  


"Sure I can." Steve agreed. "But I can also send Tony in to buy a loaf for lunch, can't I?" 

  


"...Dammit." Tony muttered, because he knew full well he wouldn't refuse Steve a damn thing. Steve smiled genially as Tony went inside to get them supplies for lunch. 

  


...

"And that over there was a baseball field, and what's it now? A lot." Steve muttered. "Disgusting. I liked that baseball field. I was a damn good left fielder." 

  


"...Steve..." Tony wasn't really sure how to bring it up. Steve grinned sheepishly. 

  


"Yeah, I know. Bad position. But before I got the serum, I was too tiny to do much, and, well, afterwards, I didn't really have any time--plus, I think I'd probably be, uh, too good." Steve muttered. "If that doesn't sound conceited of me or anything." 

  


"It doesn't." Tony promised. "Hey, Steve. A bit of advice." He gripped his shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. 

  


"Don't let what was there in the past overtake the good things the future gave us, okay?" Tony murmured. "It's okay to miss the old things, but don't fault the new things. They're just doing their job. They're not out to kick the old things out on purpose." 

  


Steve looked at him for a second, seriously considering his words. Then he nodded. 

  


"You're right, Tony." He said. "Thank you. It's good advice." 

  


He paused for a minute.

  


"I'm still not happy about the Dodgers, though." He muttered. 

  


"Well, yeah." Tony agreed. "Maybe for your birthday I'll buy 'em back and bring them here for you." 

  


Steve's eyes lit up so bright Tony almost averted his gaze. He looked like a kid, all delight and awe. 

  


"Really?!" He gushed. "Tony, oh _my_ , you--you don't have to, but that would be--would be--" 

  


"Wouldn't be half as great as seeing you smile like this." Tony murmured. "I'd pay every last cent I own to have you smile like this. A few million isn't much." 

  


Steve smiled so brightly and with such happiness that Tony really felt his entire chest go light, as if a wave of love had washed over all the grime and twisted pain in his heart and sent it far away. From behind the two of them, Rhodey rolled his eyes and faked a gag, but he was smiling too as they made their way to the part, picnic basket in Steve's hand as he looked around at the new world that surrounded him and saw it as it was, rather than as something meant to replace. 

  


He decided he liked looking at the world that way a lot better. He took Tony's hand and squeezed it for a second in thanks. Before he let go, Tony squeezed back. 

  
...

The park was peaceful and relatively uninhabited for midday on a sunny Saturday. Though, in all fairness, it was around noon, Steve surmised; most kids were probably home getting lunch before coming back out again. 

  


Still, he, Tony, and Rhodey settled in on the grass and leaned against a particularly stalwart oak tree, and Steve took out his sketchbook, opening it up and chewing thoughtfully on his pencil. 

  


"Damn," Rhodey said, shocked, "you're good. Has Tony been your muse lately?" 

  


"Well, yes." Steve replied. "And, um. Thank you for the compliment!" He grinned self-consciously. "I'm still not used to people actually appreciating my art. The only person who used to was my mom. Mom and Peggy." He explained. "A-anyways..." 

  


He quickly changed the subject. Rhodey saw worry cross Tony's face, but he didn't say anything. Rhodey held his tongue as well. 

  


"I've been meaning to draw the other Avengers, and I actually have some spare paper back at headquarters that I'd used to draw a few of them." Steve said. "I don't know where it is now. It's probably still in the room they had for me..." He frowned. "It's all right, but...I should ask Coulson to look for it." 

  


"I'll tell him." Tony mumbled lazily, slumping against the tree and closing his eyes, content. "Did you ever draw him?"

  


"Yes, I did." Steve replied. "He and I were together the most, since even Clint and Natasha had other missions to fill, and I didn't know Thor or Bruce for as long. Plus, I doubt Thor would pose for a portrait." 

  


"I doubt it." Tony murmured, a smile crossing his face. "I'd sure as hell like to see you give it a shot, though." 

  


"It's not worth it." Steve said, chuckling warmly as he flipped to a clean page. "Coulson was a good model, though. Especially when he was filling out paperwork. He just sort of...gets all serene and quiet and still. So does Clint, when he's shooting arrows; y'know, like...they're focused." He shook his head. "Natasha always seemed focused, but I never, err, asked her to model. It seemed...impolite. Ungentlemanly." 

  


"See? What did I tell you? He's perfect. Pepper and I have decided he's a unicorn." Tony told Rhodey. "And if he isn't, I'm going to make him one to ride around on. I bet a unicorn would love the shit out of him." 

  


"Tony, oh my god." Rhodey said, with the exasperated air of someone who has had similar discussions and knew deep in their heart that they would continue to have this sort of discussion until the end of time. "He isn't a unicorn, and you're not allowed to dabble in genetic engineering, ever. Regular engineering is bad enough." 

  


"I would like a unicorn." Steve mused. "I mean, y'know. Can you do that in the future? Make unicorns? Because I've always wanted to try horseback riding." 

  


"For you, Steve, anything." Tony purred. Rhodey just massaged his temples. 

  


"I would just love to see you two explain a unicorn to S.H.I.E.L.D., you know." He muttered. Tony cackled madly and grinned. 

  


"Aw, it'd be easy. All I have to do is go, "hey, look, unicorns are all over him! I mean, think of the combat potential! Plus, it's got diamond hard hooves and if you tell Steve he can't keep it, Senor Sparklenose will be very unhappy. Do you want diamond hard hooves in your crotch? I think not."" Tony narrated this hypothetical conversation with grand hand gestures, which both Steve and Rhodey ducked to avoid. Both of them were smiling despite themselves. 

  


"Maybe if you sleep like a normal person for a week straight, we can get a unicorn." Steve offered. Tony laughed. 

  


"That's it? A week? Done and done." He agreed. "You're on." 

  


Thinking Tony had forgotten about it now, (he hadn't), the trio settled in and watched as the children and their families began to return in a slow trickle of people to the park. Steve's pencil began to skate across the paper like a bird across the water, his eyes bright as he observed the goings-on. 

  


Both of the men beside him were content to observe him and his skill for quite some time; in fact, the sun was starting to dip below the clouds a little by the time Tony's stomach growled and he jumped, startled out of his reverie. Rhodey looked equally startled, checking his watch quickly and wincing. 

  


"Damn, we've been out here for awhile." He said. "Tony, Steve, how about we head back? Pep's coming home early so we can catch up, and I know you've got the Avengers at your place for the week." 

  


"Yes, I do, and that means I should go make sure Thor hasn't destroyed anything yet." Tony said, stretching out as he stood up. "Steve, you ready to go?" 

  


"But, Tony..." Steve actually pouted. "I only have a page in the book left!" 

  


"So just draw me." Tony said, amused. He didn't think Steve would do it. 

  


Then his face got sharp and focused, and he nodded, his eyes alive. 

  


"Hold still." Steve demanded. It was the closest thing to an order Tony had ever heard out of his mouth, and he immediately did as the other man had asked. Steve's pencil was quick and sharp as it flew across the paper, and Tony realized, as his body began to materialize slowly in graphite beneath him, that Steve could probably draw him in his sleep by now. 

  


Five minutes passed and Steve shut his sketchbook before handing it to Tony. 

  


"Keep this." He murmured. "I'm done with it. It's yours now." 

  


"I...I can't..." Tony swallowed. "I, uh. Um. Is there anything I can get--" 

  


"I don't want anything in return, Tony." Steve replied gently. "All I need to know is if this makes you happy." 

  


He stared at him, wide-eyed and confused, and part of Steve's heart ached so badly it hurt. He grit his teeth against the pain and waited for Tony's response. 

  


"...More than anything." Tony whispered. "Thank you. Thank you, thank you..." 

  


"Then that's enough for me." Steve said, satisfied. "C'mon. We should start heading back." 

  


The three of them made their way home in relative silence, their food untouched; Tony made a quick mental note to save it for dinner. 

  


Rhodey observed the two of them, deep in thought. He knew he was one of the few people who truly understood Tony, which was why, in all honesty, he was completely thrown for a loop by Tony's sudden behavior. He was...happy. Joking around, for real--not to be sarcastic and pithy, but to laugh. He smiled. He was relaxed around other people. He...he...he was...he was really in love, it seemed. 

  


Rhodey grit his teeth a little. Sure, Steve seemed perfect. But so had a lot of Tony's other lovers. And they had hurt him, most of them. Some of them more than others. He wouldn't let it happen again; he didn't give a damn who Steve Rogers was, no one hurt Tony Stark as long as he was around to do something about it. And hey, for all his charm, well--no one ever started out as an abusive jerk, did they? 

  


But...Tony had smiled at him. Tony had laughed with him. Tony had rested on his shoulder for awhile, which both of them had pointedly ignored, but Steve had let him, and the look in his eyes had been so very protective and gentle. 

  


So Rhodey withheld judgement for the moment. But his eyes were sharp as he kept watch on Steve, waiting for the moment that would decide whether or not he was going to intervene. 

  



	25. The Promise of Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey thinks about Tony, and girlfriends gone by. Steve and Rhodey have a discussion. Clint plays target practice at 2AM. Thor is not a good influence on Bruce. And Pepper is amazing, surprising no one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter is crazy long, because truth be told, I didn't know how to end it, or where. Sorry about that...I know it sorta seems like two chapters in one but on their own they would've been too short to work with.  
> Anywho! More elaboration into Tony's past. Baby why do you make me cry every time I think about you or write about you or remember you exist because it's driving me crazy. And right now Steve isn't much better, though that too will be covered later. God damn, these two. Anyways, here's to angst, because it keeps this fic going.

They made their way back home in peace, Tony leading the way. Steve didn't say much; his eyes observed the city around him, wide and shining with the skyscraper lights reflected back in his iris. Rhodey kept pace with Tony, not speaking. His eyes were bright as he looked at Tony, observing.

Tony wasn't usually beaten by his partners, for obvious reasons; despite the fact that Tony was bisexual, this was a fact known only to Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey, (and perhaps the Avengers, Rhodey assumed, considering he was sure they had seen him fawn over Steve by now), and as such, he had only ever dated women. They typically didn't resort to physical abuse--at least, not the ones Tony dated.

But Rhodey could tell when a lover had been running him ragged. They might not raise a hand against him, but Tony himself seemed to exact the physical tolls of abuse on his body, as if he didn't think he deserved them to touch him, even with harshness and anger lurking under their fingertips.

 

So he knew the signs by now. Tony would work himself into a stupor, to the point where he would end up shaking from exhaustion and hunger, unable to walk out of his lab. There would be bags under his eyes, and his hip bones would begin to jut from the waist of his pants, stark outlines condemning whatever lover had hurt him this time. He would stop shaving. He would stop sleeping. All of the signs were pretty blatant, but Tony had practice covering those up, so they went largely ignored. Even now, it might take Rhodey a few weeks to realize there was a problem.

But the drinking, then. Tony didn't even seem to recognize it as a symptom--thank god for that, because if he did, he would find some way to hide that, too--but Tony always drank more whenever he was being hurt. If he would normally have one beer, he would have three; if he would normally drink two glasses of wine, he would drink five or six, and it would go on until Rhodey would be yanking the bottle out of his hands and demanding an explanation.

Then Tony would lie. But his lies had become so predictable that they were as useful as the truth, and Rhodey and Pepper would deal with whomever had thought that she could hurt their Tony.

And then Tony would pretend nothing had happened and move onto the next woman. And Rhodey would wait for the inevitable, and wish with all his might that Tony would finally find someone who wouldn't do this to him.

But that was just it. As Rhodey looked over Tony--nothing, nothing at all. In fact, he appeared to have gained a little weight. There were no bags under his eyes, and no obvious signs of concealer--he had honestly been sleeping. His hands did not shake, and his eyes were not bloodshot.

Question remained, then. Had he been drinking?

"Tone," Rhodey began, his voice easy and soothing as he approached the subject as subtly as possible, "been to the liquor store lately?"

"Oh, shit." Tony said, stopping midstep as they approached the street the Stark house reigned over. "Oh, I am just--fuck, Rhodey, I'm sorry, I had made plans to pick up some of that whiskey you like, but I just completely forgot--been busy with S.H.I.E.L.D. and, y'know, Steve." He winced. "I can make it up to you, I--"

"It's fine, Tony." Rhodey said gently. "So you haven't had anything to drink lately?"

"...Now that you mention it..." Tony mused. "Huh. Guess I haven't."

Rhodey's eyes flickered over to Steve. His expression was neutral, but the look in his eyes as he focused his gaze on Tony sent a chill up his spine. There was...possessiveness there. Rhodey didn't like it. Tony was _his_.

"We'll have to order something from the liquor store then, now, definitely." Tony decided. "I'll call Pep, she can put an order in, and--"

"I don't think we need that, Tony." Steve cut in. His voice was soft and gentle, but Rhodey recognized the knife-edge underneath it. He had heard that knife-edge in his own voice before--it was protective and powerful, and carried his voice well. Rhodey's eyes narrowed and his chest tightened despite himself.

"You know Thor will just drink it all." He reminded him, keeping his voice gentle, adding an undercurrent of amusement, "and besides, Coulson doesn't need to take Clint home while he's drunk. You know how he gets."

"...True." Tony agreed. "All bubbly and giggly. It's actually pretty funny."

"Yes, but unfair to Coulson." Steve said. "We don't need alcohol, Tony. We've got the cinnamon bread, and I'll make something to go with whatever Coulson snagged from the closest takeout place." He offered. Tony snorted.

"You're just saying that 'cause you can't get drunk." He muttered, not unkindly. Still, he put his phone away. Rhodey watched intently. "Anyways, seems fair. Maybe we'll go drinking later, Rhodey. With mother's permission, of course."

Steve rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as Tony typed in the access code and opened the gates, making his way up the driveway. He was so focused on getting inside before Thor could destroy anything that he left Rhodey alone with Steve, and out of his earshot entirely.

The two stood there for a minute.

"I've got no reason to think you've been abusing Tony," Rhodey began, "but I thought I should let you know--"

" _Excuse me_?" Steve cut him off. Rhodey almost wished he hadn't said anything as he caught Steve's gaze. That sort of fury in his eyes was probably the last thing a H.Y.D.R.A. agent saw before he got knocked unconscious. Still. For Tony's sake.

"Tony's been hurt by a lot of lovers, Captain," Rhodey said, trying to keep his voice courteous. Better to finish this speech before he got punched. "I care about him. And honestly, his lovers, as a rule, _don't_. I want to head this one off at the pass now, especially since he looks so damn lovestruck that I don't think he could do it himself." Rhodey swallowed. He was yelling at Captain America now--the emblem of all that was good and right and just in society. And he regretted nothing.

"Don't hurt him." Rhodey warned. "Don't you ever hurt him. Because he thinks the world of you, and if you hurt him--"

"You seem to misunderstand me, Colonel." Steve said. His voice was an icy, sharp sort of polite now. "For starters, Tony is not my lover. He is in no position to be in a relationship right now. Perhaps you ought to have had this kind of discussion with _him_ before he let _anyone_ into his bed." He flexed his hand, curling and uncurling his fingers before he inhaled sharply.

"Second, perhaps you should consider that for once in his life, Tony truly _is_ just geniunely happy. His judgement isn't clouded, and he isn't being manipulated, and he isn't lovestruck. He's just happy. And the fact that the concept is so deeply foreign to even his closest friends fills me with..." Steve frowned. "With a sort of hurt I can't really put my finger on..." He shook his head.

"At any rate, you think I'm the enemy." Steve murmured. "Don't deny it--it's true. You see me as an enemy, and that's understandable. Sad, but understandable. Do you want the truth, then, Colonel?"

"Yes." Rhodey said through clenched teeth. "I'm here to protect Tony."

"The truth, then." Steve said. " _So am I_."

Rhodey didn't say anything. Steve continued on.

"I could sooner _tear my heart from my chest_ than hurt Tony." Steve snapped. "I am here to protect him, guide him, comfort him, and _help him_. I know it must sting that he lets me do it far more easily than it seems like he ever let you, and I'm truly sorry about that, but the truth is that all I'm here to do is _help_. I couldn't help his father, but I can help _him_. I can keep him _safe_. I can _cherish him_. I can be his _friend_. And that is _all_ I'm here to do."

Rhodey watched him for another minute. Steve couldn't read the expression on his face, so he settled for staring at him with a sharp gaze in return. For a while longer, they stood there, as if in some kind of stand off. Then Rhodey sighed.

"...Understood." He said quietly. "For now, at least."

"Fair enough." Steve agreed. "I have no other motives, Colonel, which I am sure you'll see for yourself soon enough." He held out his hand. "Shake on it?"

They did. Steve's grip was tight, but Rhodey noted that his hand was shaking a little. Seems like the idea had really gotten to him. He would remain vigilant.

The two of them made their way inside without another word.

...

"Shieldbrother!" Thor said, delighted, crushing Steve in a bear hug. "Tony said that you and the Machine of War were with him, but I was beginning to worry."

"We're fine, Thor." Steve promised. "This is James Rhodes, the, er, Machine of War."

"Pleasure." Rhodey said. "Call me Rhodey. Tony's...said a few things about you." He winced. "I'll pass on the hug. For my ribs' sake."

"Understandable." Tony said, amused, as he made his way into the living room. "Rhode, Pep's here to see you."

Rhodey smiled, delighted, as Pepper threw herself into his arms and kissed his cheek, clearly happy to see him. She nuzzled his cheek and murmured in his ear, "So, what'd you think of Steve?"

"He's...all right." Rhodey whispered back. "For the moment. I haven't decided yet."

Pepper sighed and pulled away, even though she was still smiling at him. Rhodey's heart plummeted a little; so, Pepper was on _his_ side. That could mean trouble down the line.

"Anyways, I'm just so glad you came to visit!" She gushed, as if he hadn't said a word. "God, I've missed you so much, and the company, and Tony being, just, well, Tony, and, oh, Rhodey," she shook her head and grinned, "it just all seems to work better when you're around."

"I thought they weren't dating." Steve said to Tony, confused. It was loud enough that the two of them could hear him, and they both treated him to a withering glare. Steve just tilted his head, confused and apparently unperturbed. Tony was laughing into his sleeve, trying to pass it off as a cough.

"Could say the same for you two." Clint remarked, sauntering in the room. "Whatever, though. Oh and hey, Pep, Phil wants to know where the coffee maker is. We were up all night."

"Doing _what_?" Pepper said, amazed. Clint winced.

"Well, this _might_ have been my fault..." Clint began, shifting from foot to foot, the very picture of a child caught in the middle of wrongdoing.

"And by _that_ , he means it was _all his fault_ , don't you, Clint?" Coulson yelled from the kitchen. Tony sighed, relieved.

"Whatever, so long as it wasn't mine." He muttered. Pepper rolled her eyes. Clint winced.

"Anyways, so...I sort of kind of got totally bored and started using some stuff for target practice. But it was dark, and I thought they were dishes, so--"

"Oh, Clint, you _didn't_!" Pepper cried. "That's just cruel!"

"Well, he didn't break anything," Coulson yawned, rubbing his eyes and coming out into the living room, his suit rumpled, "but he started taking them all out, and it was tough to reorganize them all and yell at him at the same time."

"I _said_ I was sorry." Clint mumbled. "If you'd let me buy those ceramic targets--"

"You are _not_ shooting targets at _two in the morning_!" Coulson snapped. " _No_ , you're not getting targets! I am not an enabler!"

"Clint, Coulson?" Steve piped up, interrupting the argument. "Could...I please have a discussion with you? Not right now, but, erm, tomorrow, if possible?" He winced. "I would ask now, but you seem very tired."

"I am, Steve." Coulson said. "Thank you for your concern, since apparently, not even my _lover_ seems to care..."

"Hey, I was out here looking for coffee, wasn't I?" Clint defended himself. Coulson rolled his eyes.

"You could care pre-emptively and not shoot targets at two AM." Coulson reminded him. Clint whined.

"Yeah, but then I'd be bored." He said. "Anyways, Steve, we'll fit in time tomorrow. And maybe grumpypants here will be in a better mood, too."

"You--you are-- _you are_ \--I am _hiding your arrows_ , Barton!" Coulson snapped. Clint wailed and clung to him, pouting and pleading for mercy as Pepper massaged her temples.

"I'll go get you two some coffee." She said. "Natasha, would you like any?"

"I slept through it, Pepper, I do not need it." She replied. "But I would be willing to help make it. I know how my boys take their coffee."

The two of them disappeared into the kitchen as Clint continued to whine pitifully on the couch. Coulson massaged his temples.

"Thor, have you seen Bruce?" He asked. "Where's--where's Bruce, someone find Bruce before I have to call in damage control--"

"I'm in the upstairs closet!" Bruce called down the hall. "Trying to find that copy of Pictionary Tony said he keeps around!"

"Okay, fine, just--just, no, don't send Thor, whatever you do, don't send Thor--"

"I would be honored to help!" Thor crowed, cutting Coulson off. "I am on my way, Bruce!"

"Oh, god." Coulson looked like he was going to cry. "Oh, god. Clint?"

Clint just whined.

"If you want me to keep your arrows where they are, you go up and do damage control." Coulson said.

Clint was gone in the span of two seconds at best.

"...Is the house always like this these days?" Rhodey said, raising an eyebrow.

" _Yes_." Everyone currently in the room chorused.

Rhodey tried not to laugh. He succeeded, for the most part.

"Anyways," Pepper said, bustling back into the room and setting a cup of coffee down in front of Coulson, "so we're going to rent a movie tonight and Coulson ordered from the Italian restaurant up the street. Any movie you're partial to, Rhodey?"

"I'm fine with anything." Rhodey said, amused. "Tony?"

"Don't care." Tony said, sinking into the couch. "God, my shoulders are killing me.." He groaned.

Steve's hands were gentle as they laid down on his shoulders, and his voice was equally soft as he said, "It's okay. I used to do this for my mom after she came home from work."

He massaged Tony's shoulders with firm, powerful strokes; he grit his teeth, just a little, and it was clear he was holding back strength. Tony didn't seem to notice; his eyes were closed and he quivered with delight, a puddle of peace and warmth on the couch. Steve gauged that he wasn't hurt by his touches before he went a little lower, shifting out all the kinks in Tony's back and shoulders.

"Your mom, huh?" Tony mumbled, voice slurred slightly with pleasure. "What'd she do?"

"She was a nurse." Steve said, his voice mild. "She did a good job, I think, but sometimes she missed work because dad had beat her so she couldn't walk." He frowned. "Those were the days she didn't eat, usually. She'd give the scraps to me. I always hated it. She needed it more."

His voice was relatively unperturbed and pleasant, as if he hadn't noticed what he was saying. When Tony looked up at him, clearly shocked, Steve tilted his head.

"Did I say something?" He asked, eyes wide and innocent, clearly unawares of what his subconscious had let slip as he added, "I'm sorry, I must not have answered your question--yes, my mother was a nurse."

"...Okay." Tony murmured. "Uh, that...that's great, Steve." His throat closed up a little. "So...so what'd your dad do?" He asked, curious. Steve's hands went back to his shoulders, massaging gently.

"After the Great War? Well, drank, mostly." Steve said. "Anyways, Tony, your muscles are all twisted..." He frowned. "It's okay, though, I'll get all the kinks out, but, I mean, goodness. You have the money for a chiropractor!"

"Yeah, but not the time..." Tony half-assed a reply, his mind whirring with Steve's response. He had always perceived Captain America as a mighty Adonis with the skill of Achilles, immune to pain and shimmering with godly glory.

...Then again, Achilles had always had his heel.

Tony sighed. Steve had hurt. That much was clear. And he would find out how, and he would do his best to help. He owed Steve that much.

For the moment, though, he would let it pass. Steve didn't seem to want to discuss it further--a notion Tony understood completely. Just...one thing.

He took Steve's hand and put his own over it, squeezing it gently and smiling.

"Hey, Steve." He murmured. "You're going to be okay."

"Of course I am, Tony," Steve smiled before adding, "I have you, don't I?"

The two of them sighed peaceably and settled in, Steve having evidently satisfied himself with the state of Tony's shoulders and back, slinking in beside him on the couch and yawning widely.

From their perspective, standing near the other couch and thankfully out of earshot, Pepper shot Rhodey a look, clearly incensed.

"How can you not love him?" Pepper hissed quietly into Rhodey's ear. " _Look at him,_ Rhodey! I promise he's real! I've touched his muscles!"

"...Give it time." Rhodey murmured quietly in return. "You know how Tony is, he--"

"Rhodey, there are times, from the way that you talk, I get the feeling that you really don't trust Tony." Pepper snapped.

The two of them fell silent.

Tony and Steve sat on the couch, unawares--too far away to hear. Both Pepper and Rhodey stared at each other for a moment, as if daring the other to move.

Pepper headed back into the kitchen without a word. Rhodey followed behind her, eager to get the matter resolved in private.

Neither Coulson nor Natasha said a word, despite having been close enough to hear the conversation. Coulson just very quietly offered Tony the remote, and the two of them waited to see how this would play out.


	26. Conversational Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey and Pepper have a conversation. Much is learned and said. Steve is just universally regarded as perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a really stressful and crappy week and I am so sorry about having legitimately no fucking time to do this. Plus my "d' key popped off and it makes it really disconcerting to write...Still...It's just been a very long week and I'm terribly sorry about that.   
> One thing I wanna make clear; Rhodey is NOT the villain. Not by a longshot. Rhodey is scared for Tony, and wants to take care of his best friend. He's just unsure how to do it properly now that a genuinely good lover has entered the picture. It's like preparing to fight a bear and then finding a kitten on your porch.  
> Oh and for future reference: I hope y'all like crack pairings. You'll see.  
> Anyways, hope this chapter is as up to snuff as usual. :3 Sorry about the delay...

Both Rhodey and Pepper stood in the kitchen, as far away from the door as possible, glaring at each other as they tried to argue while keeping their voices low. 

  


"I don't trust Tony? Really, Pep? Is _that_ what you think?" Rhodey snapped, unable to keep his temper from rising. Pepper nodded. 

  


"Yes, I think that's the truth at this point, Rhodey, because you're sure as hell proving me _right_!" She retorted. "Jesus, you just seem so willing to jump on any flaw Steve _might_ have, just so you can swoop in and save Tony from himself! You know what, maybe, for once, just _once_ , he doesn't _need_ that!" She yelled. "And as his friend, as his _best goddamn friend_ in the _world_ , that should make you _happy_ , not _jealous_!" 

  


"I am not jealous!" Rhodey hissed, trying to keep his voice down. "I'm _concerned_! And I'm pragmatic, because let's be real, when was the last time Tony had a lover who wasn't out to fuck him over?" 

  


Pepper looked pained. A sentence too late, Rhodey remembered that, for a time, they had...well, perhaps _courted_ was a better word. It had never gotten far. But she had cared. And it had made them both as happy as such a dysfunctional relationship could have, for a time. 

  


"Pep, I'm--" Before Rhodey could apologize, Pepper looked at him. There was pain in her eyes, and it made him ache in sympathy and regret. 

  


"...He loved me." Pepper murmured. " _He_ loved _me_ , for a while, and _I_ loved _him._ And _I_ , at least, _never_ meant to hurt him." She squared her jaw and looked right at Rhodey. "Maybe it wasn't a _real_ relationship, but I did care." 

  


"I know, Pep." Rhodey replied. "I know you cared. I'm sorry. I didn't mean you..." He sighed. "But all his other girlfriends? They didn't care. Why the hell should Steve be any different?" 

  


"Oh, I don't know, because he's _Captain America_?" Pepper snapped, rolling her eyes in frustration. "He's the sweetest guy on the face of the Earth, Rhodey, and I know that him sort of marching in and taking care of Tony must rub you the wrong way, considering that's been our job for _years_ now, but you know what? He's doing a better job than we could have." Pepper grit her teeth. 

  


"And you know why? Because Tony _loves him_. Tony _worships the ground he walks on_. And Tony _wants_ Steve to save him, in all honesty. He's not fighting him, or resisting him, or trying to sidestep him--he's doing okay. And that makes you jealous." She said, coming to her final conclusion. "Rhodey, you're just jealous. It's understandable, but--" 

  


"What about you?" Rhodey retorted, cutting her off. "Don't tell me it doesn't sting a little that Tony's letting Steve help him after _all you've done_ \--" 

  


"JARVIS talked to me when I got home today." Pepper interrupted. Her voice was quiet, her eyes were sharp, and her jaw was set as she stood her ground. "He said that Steve had told him, upon having a discussion quite like ours, that "he couldn't have gotten so far without the foundation we had built."" She huffed. 

  


"You know why I'm not jealous, Rhodey? Because _I_ know that _Steve_ knows that _we_ made sure Tony was here to help in the first place. And I know that he's _grateful_. I see no reason to be jealous of a man who acknowledges and admires my efforts to keep the man he loves safe." Pepper finished. 

  


"And another thing, speaking of that--you're so sure Steve loves him." Rhodey shook his head and sighed. "He's from the 40s, Pep, he can't--" 

  


"You've seen how he looks at Tony." Pepper snapped. "You've seen _everything,_ Rhodey, everything you need to know--Steve wears his heart on his sleeve, and it's obvious that his heart is property of Tony Stark at this point, so I don't know why you're fighting this every step of the way!" She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head and looking at him. He didn't like the way she looked at him. There was too much understanding in her gaze. 

  


"Do you _really_ think he's bad for Tony? Or do you just want him to be, so that you can step in and save Tony--so that you can be the only one taking care of him, even when it doesn't work nearly as well as Steve's efforts?" Pepper murmured. "I _know_ you care, Rhodey. I _know_ you love him. But you have to _trust him_ , too." 

  


"I do, I do--it's _Steve_ I don't trust, he--" 

  


"He's the man Tony chose for himself." Pepper said, cutting Rhodey off. "So at the very least, trust Tony's _choices_." 

  


Rhodey bit his lip. He was worried, Pepper knew it, and part of her felt bad for snapping; she understood his fears and sympathized, despite the argument they were currently having. He had helped Tony mend after many a bad girlfriend as much as she had. And he hadn't been around Steve for very long; he didn't know just how devoted the Captain was, perhaps. He was just worried about Tony. 

  


"Rhodey, you're not going to be phased out of Tony's life entirely." She said gently. "There's room for more than the three of us and JARVIS in his heart. He's found someone he loves, and someone who loves him. I know you're happy about that. You just want to make sure he's the right one." 

  


"I do." Rhodey murmured, all the fight leaving his body, to be replaced by worry and despair. "Pep, I--if, if Tony--" 

  


"Tony will be all right." She promised. "We'll all make sure of it." She tsked and hugged him tight. "You're not alone either, mister." 

  


"I know." He whispered, planting a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "I know, Pep." He sighed. "Should we go back out there?" 

  


"Eh, Phil's chaperoning." Pepper said. "Give them some peace." She grinned. "I've been meaning to catch up with you anyway--glass of wine?" 

  


Rhodey grinned in return and nodded a quick, silent agreement. 

  


For awhile, admist the din of the Avengers that, in her own way, Pepper had sworn to take care of, she shared a glass of wine with a friend in peace, and for once, took care of herself first and foremost. 

  


...

Dinner that night was easy and sweet; cinnamon bread and a number of Italian dishes, shared among a few large plates scattered across the table. Everyone chattered amicably among themselves; Tony discussed the logistics of his new suit and Steve went on for awhile about his artwork--of course leaving out that his main muse had been Tony, if only to prevent immature giggling and snickering. 

  


Thor discussed old war stories from Asgard, adding in grand hand gestures and booming impressions of his friends that made them all laugh. Clint gossiped about his old days in the circus and the time he had rode on the back of a tiger. Natasha spoke to them in Russian; the rough velvet of the language was indecipherable, but beautiful. Coulson and Pepper quietly exchanged horror stories about their charges in the corner. Bruce and Tony were debating the pros and cons of adding gamma radiation to the larger arc reactor for non-internal use. 

  


Rhodey just watched, unsure of what to say. Tony had found a family. All without him. And...they made Tony happy. 

  


He sighed. That was enough, then, wasn't it? They made Tony happy. And that was all he had really wanted.

  


Raising his voice above the din, he began to regale them with military gossip and outlandish stories. They all listened, enraptured, and Rhodey couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction that maybe, if he was lucky, this would end up being his family, too. 

  


"Hey, Rhode," Tony said, after the conversation had lulled a little, becoming slow and sleepy, "you on leave long enough to stay another day?" 

  


"I have two days' leave, yes." Rhodey said. "I'll take that as an invitation to stay, then?" 

  


"Yeah, of course." Tony agreed. "On one condition." He grinned. "Go pick up ice cream, okay?" 

  


"Yeah, sure." Rhodey said, stretching out as he got up and headed out of the dining room. "Don't blow up the house while I'm gone, Tone."

  


He slipped out the door and down towards his car, driving through the open gates and onto the streets of New York. 

  


"Do you want to do the upgrade tomorrow, Steve?" Tony asked. Everyone else looked rather confused. Steve just smiled. 

  


"Seems fine, Tony." He murmured. "You look tired anyway. We can't do something like that when you're tired." 

  


"True." Tony replied, yawning widely and reclining in his seat. "H'bout ice cream and some TV before bed?" 

  


"That'd be swell." Steve agreed. He yawned and slumped a little in his seat. "Gosh, I am kind of tired..." He rubbed his eyes. "...Guys? What're you all looking at?" 

  


"It's like they're married." Clint whispered into Coulson's ear, loud enough for the others to hear, save for Tony and Steve, at the other end of the table. He chuckled, amused. 

  


"Nothing, Steve." Coulson said as the rest of the team, Pepper included, hid their giggles in their sleeves. "You and Tony seem to have your nightly routine planned out already is all." 

  


"Well, it's good to have some kind of schedule." Steve tilted his head, clearly confused. "Is there a problem?" 

  


"No, no." Clint piped up, biting the inside of his cheek and shaking his head. "It's, uh, good you've got your night planned. Should we just go?" 

  


"Oh, no!" Steve said hurriedly, shaking his head and holding his hands out. "Oh, please don't think that! I just--Tony and I--" 

  


"You two want to be alone for awhile, I get it." Clint teased. Steve's face was burning bright red as Clint added, "I guess we'll just head home and let you two share in domestic bliss..." 

  


"It--it isn't--Tony and I are just going to watch some TV, please don't feel unwelcome, I mean, it's not--domestic or, I don't--" 

  


"Isn't he cute? He's like the housewife already." Clint smirked. Steve looked flustered and panicking, almost sick to his stomach, like he wanted to cry. Tony sat up, his eyes widening for a second before narrowing to sharp, flint-hard slits. 

  


"Clint, enough." Tony muttered. "Don't torment him." 

  


Clint would've persisted had it been anyone else, to be honest. He could only stand romantic tension for so long, and if anyone needed a good push, it would be Steve and Tony. But the tone in Tony's voice was too sad and desperate for him to want to push further. 

  


"Right." He replied quietly. "Sorry, Steve. Just teasing. I know you want us around." 

  


"I--yes, I do! Very much so!" Steve agreed. "It's all right, by the way. I know you're just having fun." 

  


But there was a look in his eyes that Clint understood and was saddened by, having seen and felt it within himself. He was unsure of himself, and very much in love. There was confusion there, and a bit of fear, and he wanted to take Steve into his arms, hug him for awhile, and tell him it was okay to be in love with Tony.

  


He held his tongue, though. He would talk to Coulson and Natasha about it later. They knew more about the subtleties of this than he did. 

  


"Yeah, but I go too far sometimes. S'my fault." Clint replied. "You're too cute to tease." 

  


Steve grinned. Clint's eyes flickered over to Tony for a second, curious to see what he would reveal, if anything. 

  


Then, upon actually seeing it, Clint winced at the look in his eyes. There was pain there. Pain and hurt and agony of a kind that Clint, despite his own problems, couldn't really quite put a name to. 

  


And yet. Love. So much that it easily overshadowed the rest. 

  


He sighed and put his head in his hands. They were both ridiculous. 

  


"Anyways, Rhodey should be back with the ice cream soon." Tony said, hastily changing the subject. "Wanna get the bowls, Pep? I'll go fiddle with the television." 

  


"Fair enough." Pepper said, shooting Clint a quick look. She seemed as concerned as he was. Clint figured she definitely understood his frustration at their tension--god knows she should, she had spent even more time with them than he had. "Steve, why don't you go with him? You could see how a television works." She offered. Steve brightened up. 

  


"I'd love to." He said. "C'mon, Tony!" 

  


"Anything you say, soldier." Tony shook his head and laughed, pushing his chair away from the table and making his way out of the kitchen, following Steve into the living room and shutting the door behind him. 

  


Everyone else looked at each other for a minute. 

  


"This is getting incredibly frustrating." Coulson sighed. 

  


"Agreed." Clint muttered. "I know I shouldn't tease them, but, god--I just can't deal with this anymore!" Clint groaned. "C'mon. It's not just me, right?" 

  


"Nay, they are meant to be." Thor murmured, contemplative. "I know Midgardian courtships differ from Asgardian, but the feelings do not change from realm to realm. They are enamored with each other--but there are...other factors." He frowned. "I do not believe Steve's time was very agreeable towards same-gendered courtships." 

  


"Putting it mildly." Natasha sighed and massaged her temples. "Tony is, to my eternal surprise, being a gentleman about this--but there's only so much he can stand, I think. They're calling to each other, and I..." She frowned. "I know what it is like to think you are wrong for your feelings. But I do not how to breach the subject." 

  


"Steve actually asked us to discuss something with him." Coulson murmured. "Clint and I may be able to push him in the right direction." 

  


"One can only hope." Natasha sighed. "For the moment, we will let it slide. I confess, I am a bit worn out. I don't think I'd be much help." 

  


Clint and Coulson went over to her side immediately and began to tenderly stroke her hair. 

  


"C'mon, Nat," Clint murmured, "you can sleep on my shoulder or somethin'." 

  


"That would be nice." Natasha whispered. 

  


Coulson helped her up out of her seat, and the three of them disappeared into the living room, otensibly to relax on the couch. 

  


"See, this is exactly what Anthony should be doing!" Thor cried, gesturing to where the trio had been. "Does he not have experience in this field, Pepper?" 

  


"He does, that much is true," Pepper admitted, "but I don't think he's ever met anyone quite like Steve." 

  


"I don't think any of us have," Bruce agreed, "which is probably why he's so damn confusing." 

  


"Oh, because Tony's any easier to understand." Pepper teased. Bruce grinned. 

  


"Agreed. But at least Tony being unpredictable is predictable." He sighed. "Whereas with Captain America, you're sort of expecting an apple-pie predictability, for obvious reasons. Throwing a spanner in there is different than with Tony, who would probably be made up entirely _of_ spanners, were he a machine." Bruce tsked, checking the kitchen window. "Oh, hey, Rhodey's back--I'll go help him with the ice cream." 

  


Bruce left, running a hand through his hair and sighing, shaking his head. Pepper and Thor gave each other a quick look. The unspoken concern was on both their minds and reflected in their eyes. 

  


"Please take care of my shieldbrothers." Thor asked, surprisingly concerned and plaintive. "Courting is a confusing business, and they seem to be facing a large amount of outside opposition and strife..." He sighed. "Were it that easy, I would slay any foe for them, but I do know enough of Midgardian customs to understand that threatening Fury with the might of Mjolnir for his treachery is...considered..." 

  


"Considered a bit harsh, yes." Pepper put a hand on Thor's shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on them, Thor. You go watch TV. Don't worry about them. You've got someone else to worry about." She murmured. Thor's eyes widened. 

  


"You know of my brother?" He said, shocked. Pepper nodded. She hadn't expected that sort of pain in his voice. It was a mix of regret and sorrow and love, and it blended together in a simple, short sentence full of emotion that she had honestly thought the god incapable of expressing in that sort of capacity. Truth be told, there were times that she talked about Tony in the exact same way. 

  


Pepper sighed and dismissed it, nodding in agreement to his words and ignoring the emotion behind them for both their benefits. 

  


"Mhm. I caught Tony and JARVIS discussing your situation a few weeks ago." She shook her head. "Thor, I...I'm so sorry. I hope he's all right." 

  


"As do I, my lady," Thor said gravely, "if only so that I can get an explanation as to his schemes." 

  


He shook his head and departed for the living room with a soft, plaintive sigh. Pepper watched him leave before massaging her temples, suddenly aware of the weight placed on her shoulders courtesy of all the people she had suddenly adopted into her life. 

  


"Pepper?" Bruce's voice was sudden and soft in her ear, and she looked up to see him and Rhodey standing there with bags full of ice cream containers. "You look tired. Why don't you go to sleep?" He offered, his voice soft and low. "I left some chamomile tea in the cabinets. Brew some and go rest. I think we can manage without you." 

  


"No, no, no, you can't," Pepper said, "I mean, no offense, but all of you, and--" 

  


"Pep, just go." Rhodey told her; Bruce was already putting the mug in the microwave and heating it up. "You're going to explode if you keep running yourself ragged. We can talk tomorrow." 

  


"Rhodey's right." Bruce piped up. "And believe me, I know all about exploding under stress." He winced despite himself. "Pep, please go get some rest." 

  


He added milk to the boiling water, dipping the tea bag in as he dropped in a few cubes of sugar, handing the mug to her. 

  


"Go relax." He said. "We'll take care of everything." He smiled. "You can't keep an eye on Tony if you're even more tired than he is." 

  


"Mmkay." Pepper mumbled. "G'night, boys. Loveya." 

  


"Sweet dreams." Bruce offered. "Call if you need anything." 

  


"JARVIS will let you know." She told him. "See you in the morning." 

  


She disappeared upstairs, a smile on her face as she cradled the tea in her hands. Both Rhodey and Bruce watched her leave for a minute, quiet and considering. Bruce shifted from foot to foot, his cheeks reddening ever-so-slightly. 

  


"She's really sweet." Bruce murmured. "And she's got to be pretty strong to put up with Tony." 

  


"...Hm." Rhodey mused. "Y'know, you might be her type." He grinned. "Quick question, doctor Banner." 

  


"Shoot." Bruce said, his eyes still focused on the door where Pepper had left the room. Rhodey tried not to laugh. 

  


"Are you, by any chance, Norwegian?" He managed to say with a straight face. 

  


"...What?" Bruce asked. Rhodey snorted. 

  


"Own any hedgehogs, then?" He asked. 

  


Bruce huffed. Rhodey took that as a no. 

  
...

The entire group, piece by piece, made its way into the living room, and settled in quietly to watch television. The night passed by, peaceful and quiet, and before he fell asleep, looking around at everyone who was passed out on the couches and snoring quietly, Steve smiled, shook his head, and judged it "good." 

  


It was only then that he noticed Tony had, in the slow, sleepy chaos that was everyone going to bed for the night, managed to snuggle underneath his arm and press himself up against the crook between his arm and chest. Steve tsked lightly and reached out with his free hand to grab a throw blanket off of the other couch, tugging it off and tossing it over Tony's more compact frame. 

  


"Sweet dreams." Steve mumbled, already falling asleep himself. 

  


Within his dreams--an endless void of wires and the soft hum of a machine just beyond his reach--Tony heard Steve's voice, as faint as if spoken through water. 

  


He smiled in his sleep and curled closer to Steve, the arc reactor lighting both of their bodies up, illuminating the empty spaces between where their bodies met. 

  



	27. Careful Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson comforts his lovers. The reactor is taken care of. Rhodey does not like what he sees. Steve approves the hell out of chaperones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this fic is fifty four chapters and counting.  
> At least, what I've divided up is. Chapterwise, once I divided up the fic, it reached fifty four, the one I'm currently working on, and we're only, oh, say...a little less than halfway through the story?   
> Hang on to your butts is what I'm saying here.  
> I write a lot, okay?   
> But yeah, so that's...you guys are only on like chapter twenty seven now, hahaha. Literally only half of what I've got. So...I hope you enjoy the ride!  
> Anyways, minor Clint/Coulson/Natasha moment. Debating putting the fic up now--it's probably a pretty decent length, at least 60k, and also about halfway done. I'm just worried it could fall to the wayside while I work on this...but also some of the things that happen in it make all the stuff near the end of this fic make more sense! So weigh in on if you'd like to read it, please? It'll sway my decision a little.  
> And so yes, the reactor scene is gloriously homosexual, surprisingly, like, absolutely no one. Hooray!  
> And no they haven't actually hooked up yet. I am a cruel person. <3 I still hope you like this chapter!

The first person awake the next day was a tie between Coulson and Pepper. They met in the kitchen and nodded, completely understanding of the other and their actions. 

  


A very well-practiced and choreographed routine between them, the two settled in to make breakfast without a word to each other, brewing coffee, frying eggs, and making toast like they worked beside each other every day. 

  


About a half hour later, Clint and Natasha finally realized their lover was not longer beside them; they woke up with soft whines of concern, looking about the room, eyes wide, slightly wet and shining with fear and panic. 

  


Pepper watched, both interested and a little surprised as, upon hearing the soft cries, Coulson immediately dropped his spatula and made it back into the living room in two large strides, settling back in on the couch and talking to them both in quiet, loving tones. She couldn't hear what he was saying, but she didn't matter; she figured it best not to pry. 

  


She finished up breakfast and added the last of it to the plates, setting them on the table as she decided to wait for Coulson to finish comforting them before going in to wake everyone else up. 

  


...

Coulson almost commended himself on the fact that he was one of a very select few that ever saw the prideful Hawkeye and stoic Black Widow as the very vulnerable humans he knew they really were. He would have had more pride in it if it didn't make him worry and fuss so much, to be honest. 

  


"Sssh, ssh. I'm right here. I'm sorry," he apologized, keeping his voice gentle as he continued, "I didn't mean to leave you. I'm sorry. You're okay. We're in Tony's house, I'm right here. You're okay. Ssh. Ssh. You're okay." 

  


Natasha buried her face into his neck as Clint snuggled into his chest. He began to stroke Clint's hair as he turned to kiss Natasha, murmuring small, meaningless words into their ears--sweet nothings meant to calm them down and no more. 

  


He had learned very, very early on in the relationship he now had that Natasha and Clint, too accustomed to being together in a cohesive unit and as such, always in each others' sight, had begun to see being without a partner upon waking as an emergency or cause to panic. Coulson didn't begrudge them that quirk, because the truth was, on a mission--which, up until very recently, had been the duo's sole reason to exist--that _was_ a cause for concern. Still, it usually meant he couldn't get up and make breakfast until at least one of them was up...and today he had forgotten. 

  


Guilt lanced his heart as he cradled them both close, cooing comfortingly and stroking their hair, Natasha's curls falling over his neck as Clint nuzzled closer. 

  


"I'm sorry," he repeated, "you're okay. I'm right here. I was making breakfast. I'm not hurt. You're safe. I'm safe. It's all right. Ssh..." 

  


They were all quiet for a minute. Everyone else lay awake and pretended to be asleep--Coulson gave them credit for doing a good job at regulating their breathing, but he could tell. 

  


"Okay." Clint murmured. "Sorry. We're good. Right, Nat?" 

  


"We are fine." Natasha agreed. "But...I know I am always grateful that you are concerned." 

  


"Me too." Clint piped up. "But we're fine. Promise." 

  


"Okay." Coulson said, continuing to stroke their hair. "C'mon. I made breakfast."

  


His voice was soft and tender, so gentle that it genuinely surprised the rest of the team with its almost maternal nurturing tone. Natasha and Clint followed him back into the kitchen without hesitation, leaving the others all looking at each other, deciding unanimously that, without coffee, they did not care to subject their brain cells to this sort of mess. 

  
...

Everyone ate quietly, halfway between awake and asleep. Somewhere within this grey landscape, plans were made--the group, save Rhodey, was going to the park to enjoy themselves, get Thor out exploring the city, and give Steve and Tony some time alone. No one pushed the matter of Rhodey staying for two reasons--one, hell, why _not_ have a chaperone, Steve was from the 40s, he'd approve, and two, none of them were awake enough to contest Rhodey's firm insistence. 

  


Besides, he was Tony's friend, and he had missed him. It was understandable. No one took it the wrong way--for a second, perhaps, Pepper worried he was still misconstruing Steve and viewing him as an abuser, potential or otherwise, but even she was too tired to think on it for long. 

  


So it was quick, then, the migratory period; everyone was out of the house in fifteen minutes, with Coulson promising Steve they would talk after they got home just before leaving. So Steve was in a good mood, peaceful and considering as he finished his coffee, Tony still half-asleep beside him. He hadn't said anything about where he had waken up, and the position Steve had awoken to the two of them in--Tony clung, in his sleep, like a frightened child; all hands bunching in fabric and snuggling against the warm vastness of his chest. Steve didn't push the matter. 

  


"Rhodes, I've got some stuff to do down in the lab with Steve, okay?" Tony mumbled, finishing his coffee and stretching out. "We'll be up in twenty." 

  


For a second, Steve watched, interested, as something appeared to flicker across Rhodey's face--but he could not name the mix of emotions and so he let the strange occurrence be. Rhodey just pursed his lips and nodded. 

  


"S'fine, Tone, I'll clean up from breakfast." Rhodey agreed. "Hurry up, though; I do want to spend time with you today." 

  


"Of course, of course, I promise." Tony smiled, and Rhodey knew full well he was completely wrapped around Tony's finger from that smile alone. "We'll be up soon. C'mon, Steve." 

  


"Coming!" Steve said, an unmistakable edge of excitement to his voice as he followed Tony out of the kitchen and downstairs into the lab. Rhodey watched them leave, considering. 

  


He knew the access code, of course. And he was going to go down and check on them, that was for certain. But following them down right after seemed like a bad idea as well. 

  


Rhodey nodded. Ten minutes, then. That would be enough time for something incriminating or troubling to happen--or, though he severely doubted this option, perhaps for his suspicions to be dispelled permanently. 

  


Rhodey chuckled as he gathered the plates and put them in the dishwasher. Yeah, he doubted it. At least this time he was here to save Tony before things got too bad.

  
...

Steve unconsciously growled at the reactor removal machine, his lip curling back as he snarled at it. Tony didn't bring it up, but he admitted privately that it sent a thrill up his spine--the idea of Steve being so possessive and protective made him a little weak-kneed, to be completely honest. 

  


"So, this is just a minor upgrade." Tony said, sitting down at his workbench and tapping a small silver button, opening a hatch in the desk and letting a small ice-blue container rise up out of the depths of the desk. He opened the latched-shut box and Steve inhaled sharply, fascinated by the contents. Tony grinned. 

  


"But," he continued, gesturing to the thick, sleek material within the box, "it looks impressive, I'll admit. It's just a shock absorber for the reactor at the moment, but I'm hoping it will work as both a shock absorber for the reactor itself, and, when placed within the suit, on the suit as well. It would function...well, sort of like your shield, Steve." Tony hummed, amused. "I promise, my weird obsessions aside, that was totally unintentional." 

  


"I'm sure." Steve agreed. "Good engineering is just uniform, in the end--you wouldn't want to not have shock absorbers in a suit that needs to withstand impacts, yes?" 

  


"Well, yeah." Tony replied. "See? You know more than you think. You just need to shake off that yoke of anachronistic despair and you're good." 

  


"...What?" Steve asked, confused. "I don't get it." 

  


"What I meant was," Tony said hastily, and Steve tried not to smile at the blush on Tony's face--it would only confuse him, after all, "like, you know what you're doing? You're not letting yourself make connections or learn new things because you think that the 1940s was like this island of experience, cut off entirely from a logical train of progress. Sure, you slept through most of the stops on the train, metaphorically speaking, but you've still got the map in front of you, and you got off at the right stop." He shrugged. "Just...don't think of this as "new." Think of the world you're in now as a continuation of the new one. We lost some baggage and passengers, but we picked up some new ones, too. In the end it evens out." Tony frowned. 

  


"Or...well, something, I think we lost the train metaphor a couple stops back." He muttered. Steve grinned. 

  


"Don't worry." He said. "I think I understand." He frowned. "At least a little..." 

  


"Close enough." Tony agreed. "Don't worry. It'll take time. But you really are a fast learner." He grinned. "I think you understood most of what I was saying about the suit last night, so that proves it." 

  


"Well, most of it, maybe, but the truth is, I really just like hearing you talk." Steve confessed. The words had apparently sprung to his lips without prior agreement from his brain--he burned so red for a second that he looked almost feverish. Tony smiled, delighted, and the blush immediately faded, replaced by a quiet sort of satisfaction and peace lighting up Steve's eyes. 

  


"I don't hear that a lot." Tony replied, his voice rough with truth. "But...thanks. I don't mind talking to you. I like it a lot, in fact." 

  


"Good." Steve smiled. "Glad we're in agreement, then." 

  


"Right." Tony murmured. There was something in his voice that Steve couldn't name, but before he could press it any further, Tony's hands were in the air, gesturing about as he began to talk about the shock absorbers and pull up diagrams as to how they went in the reactor. 

  


Steve tensed for a second--he heard something upstairs. It was a momentary panic and no more; he dismissed it as the creaking of the floorboards in the admittedly aging house. He shook his head and continued to pay attention to what Tony was saying. 

  


"So it's a ring in two parts that goes over the inner core of the reactor?" Steve asked. Tony nodded. 

  


"Right. Which, unfortunately, is why I need to take it out, rather than just slip it over the outward part of the reactor." Tony sighed and looked up at Steve. There was such vulnerability and frailty in his eyes then that Steve swallowed, tense. He was offering himself up to Steve, then, tender and timid, giving him the tether to his existence--quite literally, he was offering Steve his heart. After all that, how could he _not_ want to protect Tony with everything in him? 

  


"You've got careful hands, I assume." Tony said. There was something Steve didn't understand in his voice. He swallowed, only to find his throat had started to convulse a little. So he could not speak, then, and as such, he did the best he could to communicate through the language Tony truly understood--the soft skin of his hands and the feel of a body upon him. 

  


Steve took his hands and placed them over Tony's, squeezing lightly, enough to both remind Tony of his strength and assure him of his restraint and gentle touch. Then, very carefully, he took Tony's chin in his hands and tilted it up a little. Tony's breathing was becoming ragged and frayed, his eyes wide and his pulse hammering against the tips of Steve's fingers. 

  


Steve put his palms against the sides of Tony's face, his fingers grazing the soft shells of his ears before reaching out over stark, prominent cheekbones. He ran a gentle thumb over the skin before him before, abruptly, his hands left Tony's face. 

  


As if unaware of himself or his reactions, Tony moaned at the loss of contact. It was soft and low, but there was unmistakable passion in it. Before he could deny it, the thrill that lanced up Steve's spine made his whole body tremble. 

  


Aware of his slightly-shaking hands, Steve moved his grasp down Tony's neck, the upper half of his chest, until finally, anticipation making his heart pound a drumbeat against his ribs, he came to a stop at the ring of scars surrounding the reactor. Tony swallowed. 

  


"Yes," Steve whispered, his fingers reaching down further, grazing the rim of the reactor, which glowed bright, shining sapphire beneath his fingertips, as if it had been waiting for him to touch it, "I do." 

  


With that, his careful hands reached across the outer edges of the reactor, and with a small, soft whisper of comfort to the man beneath him, Steve pulled the reactor out of Tony's chest, feeling it pulse in his hands, alive and calling out to him. 

  



	28. A Comedy of Errors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey walks in. He does not take this well.  
> Steve might as well start a cult dedicated to the arc reactor because _really_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So of course Rhodey handles this well. It's a comedy of errors at this point, people, don't expect me to make it easy on any of them! It's more fun that way.  
> Steve might as well start a cult dedicated to the arc reactor okay? And it's...kind of hot, let's be honest here. Oh Steve. You are just so naive and cute and ugh. You are the worst thing because of how cute you are. You kill me.  
> Anywho, so...this is...honestly one of my favorite chapters. It's just really sweet without being too sappy or romantic so I'm proud of it. Hope you all like it too!

Rhodey, of course, had chosen the worst possible moment in the entire span of the four-day courtship to make his way downstairs and check on them. 

  


He had given them a few minutes alone, but his worry for Tony's well-being overrode his logic, and he had brought them more coffee--an excuse, a bartering chip, bait. So he made his way down to the lab with an excuse bubbling warm in his hand, just the way Tony took it. 

  


The walls of the lab were not, unfortunately, plexiglass, as they had been in the California house's lab; this one was more secluded, a bit more isolated, and as such, Rhodey had to let himself in to check on Tony. He didn't like that--there were times he could just observe from behind a clear wall, and Tony wouldn't even notice, too wrapped up in his work, giving Rhodey a moment to prepare an argument or plea to make his way upstairs to eat or sleep. No luck, it seemed. 

  


Rhodey sighed and typed in the access code. The doors opened for him with a soft hiss, and it was in that moment that he walked in at the worst time humanly possible. 

  


What was really going on was this; Tony had been situated as carefully and methodically as possible on top of the sterile workbench so as to allow Steve to reach out and hold him close if he needed to restrain him, but allow him the space and distance to refrain from a panic attack due to proximity. Steve had pulled the arc reactor free enough to slip the shock insulators around the core, but not so much that the wires were pulled free from Tony's chest, which would make his heart murmurs increase and encourage cardiac arrest. He was shielding Tony, shielding the reactor; worshiping it, almost, with a delicate touch and a loving concern. Steve was protecting Tony and keeping him safe, as he had always promised. 

  


What Rhodey saw, in his preconceived notions and panic, was Tony thrown down on the workbench by someone far more powerful than he, pinning him down and ripping the reactor from his chest, crushing it in a tight grip. To him, Steve was hurting Tony, killing him--just as Rhodey had been so sure of. 

  


He didn't say a word, despite the fact that rage was making him tremble--he was a soldier, and he was on a battlefield now--he knew what he had to do. 

  


Right after the hiss of the doors, Steve had tensed, all his muscles poised to spring into action, if needed. He knew someone was behind him. He didn't know who, but they would have to wait--Tony's heart was in his hands, and that was the most important thing right now--it always was, honestly. 

  


Steve had just barely begun to put the first shock insulator in before Tony sat up, his eyes wide. 

  


"Rhodey, what the f--" He was cut off as Steve was suddenly aware of a fist in his kidneys. Clever, really--Steve had to respect the smart move on Rhodey's part. 

  


Of course, it didn't affect him--he was _the_ Super Soldier, the gem of the Army, but that wasn't the point. Rhodey, for whatever reason, wanted a fight, and Steve didn't have the time. 

  


"I'm really sorry, but right now, Tony's my priority, so--" He began, before getting cut off with another fist, this one to his solar plexus. 

  


"Bullshit! I'm not going to _stand by_ and let you _kill him_ \--I don't give a fuck about who you are, you're not hurting _my Tony_ \--" 

  


"Oh, so _that's_ what this is about." Steve sighed. "Rhodey, listen--we don't have time, the reactor--" 

  


"Yeah," Rhodey breathed, "the reactor. Gotta get the reactor away from you. Can't fucking believe you'd rip it out of his chest, you sick _fuck_ \--" 

  


Steve was reeling, confused and shocked and frustrated, but the second Rhodey went for the reactor, he reacted. He would have time to feel bad later--Tony's heart was the ultimate priority, and he would be damned if he didn't protect him. 

  


So with a sweeping, elegant dodge, he ducked, reached, and grabbed Rhodey's arm, twisting it around and using his momentum to throw him across the worktable and sending him skidding into the wall with a sharp, harsh thud. 

  


"I'm so sorry!" Steve cried, guilt immediately swamping his consciousness. "I didn't mean to hurt him, Tony, I'm just--worried, oh Tony--" 

  


"S'fine, time to explain later, insulators," Tony panted. He was going pale, sweating--Steve would have panicked, had he not been as worried as he was; his complete and utter worry and fear consumed him to the point where panic was subdued completely and assimilated into a Zen-like state of grey. 

  


Steve, in that grey state of calm fear, brushed a kiss against Tony's forehead. Beneath him was sweat, fever, and pain, and for a minute, he understood exactly how his mother had felt, taking care of him during all his illnesses. The urge to protect welled up in him, hot and strong, and broke through the grey calm, replacing it with urgency. 

  


The shock insulators were applied to JARVIS' specifications within the next fifteen seconds, Steve's fingers flying over the warm steel of the reactor like quicksilver before JARVIS finally said, " _Upgrade complete_." He then added, a note of urgency to his synthesized voice, " _Please, Captain,_ hurry." 

  


Steve did as JARVIS asked, setting the reactor in with the most tender, gentle care that he could muster despite his urgency, making sure his haste wouldn't get mixed in with sloppiness. Tony whimpered softly with pain as the reactor slid in with a soft snick, humming brightly as it went back to work. 

  


The two of them looked at each other for a second. 

  


"That was scary, huh?" Steve said softly, relief washing over his words as he saw the color return to Tony's face and his breathing return to normal. Tony nodded. There were tears in his eyes. Steve didn't press the matter or point it out to him. 

  


"Sorta," Tony choked out, his hands shaking as he put them over the reactor, as if to hold it even closer to his heart, "but I knew I was okay. It was your hands on me. I had...I had you." 

  


Steve swallowed. Tony was still trembling. Clearly, he _wasn't_ okay. And Steve would be _damned_ if he let that pass. 

  


Very gently, he took Tony into his arms, picking him up and situating him so that he was on Steve's lap as they sat on the table. He began to stroke Tony's hair with one hand and hold him with the other, his arm across his abdomen so Tony didn't fall. 

  


As he continued to stroke Tony's hair, his breathing slowed, softened, returned completely to normal--even a little more peaceful, perhaps. With that settled, Steve's hand left his hair. Very carefully, with utmost caution, Steve made his way down to the reactor again, his hand ghosting the rim of scars around it. Tony swallowed; beneath his arm, Steve felt him tense. Steve cooed softly, gently, like a mother soothing her child, his arm squeezing a little tighter around him, holding him closer. 

  


"Ssh." Steve whispered. "It's okay. I just want to feel. May I?" He asked, his voice quiet and polite--as proper as a gentleman asking for a dance. Tony closed his eyes for a second, licking his lips nervously and trying not to shake before he finally opened them and nodded. 

  


Triumph swelled in Steve's chest and he smiled, delighted, as his fingers began to trace the rim of thin scars, spreading out like the beginnings of a web. 

  


"How beautiful." He murmured. Tony would have protested, had he not thought Captain America physically incapable of lying. For once, he believed someone when they told him that. 

  


Steve smiled, as if he knew. He just shook his head and tsked lightly. 

  


"Tony, I really do think the reactor is beautiful." He promised. "It...it's gorgeous. It's new, it's--it's the future, and, and it--it keeps you alive." He smiled again, a bit of wistfulness to this one, and some relief as well. Tony just watched as he inched his fingers closer to the rim of the reactor. 

  


"It kept you here," Steve murmured, "so that you could wait for me. You wanted to be here for me--and this made sure you could. Of course I think it's beautiful, Tony. It's _you_. It keeps you _alive_." 

  


Tony's heart was hammering against his chest. He wanted to cry. He wanted to sit there and sob like a baby, because he had never, in his entire life, had someone just be so goddamned _nice_ to him, and he didn't know what to do about it, and it was scaring him, and confusing him, and making him an entirely different person, and as much as he liked it, it frightened him as well. But...he knew Steve would be there. Even when he got scared. Even when he wasn't perfect. So he was okay, and for the moment, he did not cry. 

  


"It's your heart," Steve whispered, "and so I guess it's mine, too." 

  


"It always was." Tony said, his voice hoarse with emotion and strained with fear. That was the closest to an outright confession he had gotten, ever, and--he didn't know what to do. Had he gone too far? God, if Steve--if Steve walked away... 

  


"I'm so glad." Steve replied, and his acceptance, his seeming delight at the idea, made Tony's knees shake as his whole body begin to liquefy into some kind of burning jelly that ached and twisted and made him want to melt into Steve's embrace and never leave. "Tony..." 

  


Steve set him down. Tony whimpered at the loss of contact, completely shameless--he was too far gone to care. Whatever happened at this point happened. 

  


Almost as soon as Tony began to whine at the loss of contact again, Steve situated him so that Tony was sitting on the table with Steve between his legs. 

  


Tony was either going to die or fade into whatever heaven they let drunkard geniuses into, and he was completely okay with that. The greatest and most secret of all his dreams was coming to a glorious apex, so fuck anything that happened after this one infinite moment of perfection. 

  


However, Steve didn't seem interested in anything below Tony's chest; he seemed to just be using his position to get closer rather than sexual. Tony felt a stab of humiliation and despair lance his heart--he wasn't good enough for Steve, of course. Why had he even thought for a minute that Steve would fuck him? Who the hell did he think he was? 

  


He didn't voice his despair, though; he put it in that twisted, rotting part of his heart that he put all his troubles, locking it away to fester with the rest of his problems. 

  


Steve leaned in closer. His eyes were inquisitive, bright, alive with curiosity as he leaned in so close Tony could feel his breath against his skin. 

  


"Hello," he murmured, and in an odd moment of clarity, Tony realized Steve was talking to the _reactor_ , not him, and oh god, they were both going crazy, "you saved Tony, didn't you?" He laughed softly, the rush of air hitting Tony's skin and making him shiver. "You kept him here for me. Thank you." 

  


His fingers reached forward, and before Tony could even piece together what Steve was doing, the tips of his fingers were pressed against the reactor. Tony could _feel_ Steve's fingers in a way that wasn't quite like skin on skin, and it just felt so intimate and almost--almost profane, because it was making him aroused in a way he didn't quite know how to comprehend or deal with, and it was Captain America, and--and oh, god. He was going straight to hell. 

  


"You're so beautiful." Steve whispered. "You and Tony both. I'm just so glad you kept him safe." 

  


The only hypothesis Tony could think of, logically speaking, was that Steve assumed all modern technology was as sentient as JARVIS, because suddenly up and talking to the reactor did not make a lick of sense otherwise. That was both hilarious and incredibly awkward as of right now, because he hadn't stopped touching it, and it was making Tony shake underneath Steve's touch, and _he didn't even notice._

  


Steve ran his thumb over it one more time. Tony moaned, then, the contact becoming more intense, more obscene. He was definitely going to hell. The _special hell._

  


"Relax," Steve whispered, "because you're not alone anymore. I'm here to keep Tony safe, too." 

  


His eyes were glassy, as if he was hypnotized by the reactor's glow. That was the only explanation that Tony could hypothesize for his next action. If he had more time to think, perhaps he would have come up with a better idea, but immediately after Steve leaned in and kissed the reactor, Tony's brain self-imploded. 

  


It was a chaste kiss. That, Tony was still capable of realizing. It was the chaste, gentle kiss a mother would give a sick child. But oh, _god_. 

  


"You're going to be okay." Steve promised, and in Tony's half-functioning brain, he couldn't discern whether Steve was still talking to the reactor, or to him. "You're safe. Rest now." 

  


Steve pulled away, his hands on Tony's hips to steady himself as he stood up to his full height and stretched. Tony was still trembling. 

  


"I...I think we should go get Rhodey." Steve murmured. "I should apologize." 

  


What they should do, in Tony's mind, was stay there forever. To hell with everything else but the touch of Steve's fingers on the reactor. To hell with _everything_. They were _meant_ to be together--here, in this lab, alone and someplace safe they both knew. Nothing else mattered. 

  


"Yeah, we should," Tony agreed anyway, "and it's okay. I understand. I'm just...confused about why he did what he did..." 

  


What they should have done and what Tony knew they had to do were two entirely different stories, that much was obvious. 

  


As Steve nodded, still looking apologetic and nervous, Tony gripped his hands on the edge of the table, steadied his breathing, and tried to will away a raging erection before he had to have a serious discussion with Rhodey. 

  


...

Rhodey hadn't been winded for too long by that throw; Steve might have been strong, but Rhodey had training and experience too, and it was enough to keep him from being too injured. He had awoken a few minutes after, and had prepared to get back up and fight-- 

  


...And then he had heard them. There was no way the conversation had been a performance for his benefit, or some way of throwing him off; they hadn't known he could hear them, of course. 

  


Tony had let _Steve_ touch the arc reactor, when not even _Pepper_ had been able to help him with it after Obadiah. That...that stung. He wouldn't deny that. 

  


But Steve had respected that Tony had let him do such a thing. He had treated the reactor with reverence--almost a bit too much, Rhodey admitted, though he figured that assuming that the reactor was in some way sentient made sense to a man from 1945... 

  


At any rate...perhaps he had misjudged. It didn't stop the ugly gut feeling of jealousy within him, but it did give him a bit of...perpective, almost, and a bit of understanding. 

  


Maybe he _had_ been too quick to judge. The reasons as to _why_ were varied, of course--some of them were more logical and rational than others, as well, which he would admit. But the end point was that, regardless of his personal feelings on Tony or his past relationships...Steve was all right. Rhodey could deal with the rest later. At least Tony had finally found a good man. 

  


So as he was pulled up carefully from the floor of the lab, the first thing both him and the Captain said, in unison, was, "I'm so sorry!" 

  


They looked at each other for a second. 

  


"I...I'm sorry I had to fight you," Steve amended, "I just didn't want Tony to have a heart attack while we argued..." 

  


"I'm sorry I didn't trust you, Captain." Rhodey murmured. "I just...I have reasons to worry about Tony. I guess this time I just worried too much." 

  


"It's understandable." Steve agreed. "Tony does tend to inspire worry over his well-being, I'd think." 

  


"I'm right here." Tony grumbled. Steve grinned. 

  


"Doesn't change the truth, does it?" He teased. "I'm just glad we got a little bit of this sorted out." 

  


"Agreed," Tony sighed, amused, adding, "you two were starting to turn into dogs fighting for the alpha position in the pack." 

  


Rhodey huffed and gave him a look before turning back to Steve.

  


"It's true that some of this is sorted out...but I'd like to have a conversation with Steve, if that's all right." Rhodey said. "In private." 

  


Tony looked back at Steve, his expression querying, and Rhodey's heart ached as he looked at them both. There was a synchronization there already; a means of silent communication that all partners learned, in time. It made Rhodey feel so terribly alone in that room. 

  


"...All right." Tony agreed. "Fair enough." He looked at Steve. "You okay with that?" 

  


"If it gets everything under control, yes." Steve said. "We'll go up into my room. Will you be all right working in the lab?" 

  


"Yeah--I'm almost halfway done with that new suit, and I want to sync it up with more of the shock absorbers." Tony told him. "I could be down here for a few days." 

  


"But you won't be," Steve murmured gently, "you'll come up and eat lunch when we're done with our conversation, okay?" 

  


Tony stared at him for a minute. Steve just stared back. Hazel met sapphire, both eyes shining with determination and a refusal to back down. The silent communication thread passed between them once more. 

  


"...Fine, whatever." Tony muttered. "I'll eat. ... _Nag_." 

  


"Only because you need one." Steve replied cheerfully. "See you in a few, Tony. Good luck with the suit." 

  


"I don't need luck, I'm a genius," Tony said proudly, "but...thanks, Steve." 

  


He smiled. It hurt to see him smile, Rhodey couldn't help but think, because it meant regardless of what objections he raised or problems that arose, Tony was hopelessly in love with the Captain, and nothing he could do would change that. Tony's smile said it all. 

  


"You're welcome, Tony." Steve murmured. "Anyways. Rhodey?" 

  


"Captain." Rhodey said, keeping his voice calm and polite as they both made their way upstairs without another word. 

  


Tony made sure he heard the upstairs lab door shut behind them before calling, "JARVIS? I want a recording of their conversation saved to my hard drive and opened when the conversation is finished." 

  


_"Understood, sir."_ JARVIS agreed. _"I will begin processing immediately. Why don't you work on your suit now?"_

  


"Was planning to..." Tony mumbled. Truth was, though, that even as he set about insulating the chestpiece and groin area with shock absorbers, his mind was somewhere else, worrying about whatever conversation was happening upstairs. 

  



	29. A Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Rhodey talk. Steve gets angry and possessive and protective. Tony has issues. Like, a lot. Though truth be told, sometimes, so does Rhodey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly just Rhodey ranting about everyone and Steve getting possessive and growly because there can NEVER be enough possessive, overprotective Steve. I could write a story for it every day for ten thousand years and I would not be content with the amount of possessive, overprotective Steve. Especially in regards to Tony.   
> Also what the fuck, ending of Iron Man 2. Seriously, holy shit. Watching it was just a serious progression of gutpunches. Tony. Tony honey. Tony please don't listen to Fury. You are perfect just the way you are.  
> So there's that reason I wrote this. ^^; Anyways, oh and some other stuff happens, but I won't spoil it. Since it's, y'know, a twist and all. I hope it makes you all jump a little.

Steve would have sat on his bed--his legs were aching by now, just small twinges, but enough to make him long to sink into the mattress--except he wouldn't dare make himself seem smaller than Rhodey right now. So he ignored the pain and puffed himself up to his full height, every muscle tense and his whole body rigid and firm, like a shield. 

  


Rhodey watched him carefully. He had more reason to ache--he had been thrown halfway across the lab, after all--but his thought process was the same as Steve's. Heaven forbid he seem weak or small in this conversation. 

  


"So, you said Tony's had abusive lovers before." Steve said quietly. "I would like to know more about that. It seems to be the reason you've been side-eyeing me all this time." He frowned. "Though I don't know why that has anything to do with our relationship." 

  


"You really don't get it, do you?" Rhodey said incredulously. "Hey, Captain, newsflash--Tony's in love with you. If you don't know that by now, I don't know what else to tell you." He sighed. "I mean, I've never seen him like this with anyone. He's completely over the moon about you." 

  


Steve stared at him for a minute, his eyes wide and his mouth parted just enough to show shock. 

  


"...What?" Steve said softly. "No, that's not the case. Tony is my best friend. That's all. I value his company more than anyone else's, but we're not lovers." 

  


"No, Tony's _my_ best friend." Rhodey snapped. "Much as I hate to admit it, truth be told, he's your _lover_ ; in spirit if not officially." 

  


"But...but he's, he can't!" Steve said. Rhodey sighed. He had told Pepper this last night--damn it, he had warned her... 

  


"He can't have a relationship with me because he isn't ready." Steve said, and his voice was gentle and soft rather than condemning and harsh, surprising Rhodey as Steve added, "I mean, he's just...not healed yet, is he? He isn't ready for a relationship. He needs to be taken care of first. Once I've helped him out of the rut he's in, then, well, he's free to fall in love with whomever he wishes, but..." Steve shrugged. "Right now, he needs a helping hand, not a promise ring." 

  


Rhodey looked at him for a minute, considering. Steve watched him in return, totally and utterly guileless. He wasn't lying, that much was clear. But he was painfully naive; that much was also obvious. Rhodey sighed. 

  


"Y'know, I guess I can't fault you for not getting this about Tony yet, because it's only been, what, half a week? A little more?" Rhodey sighed. "The truth is, Captain, to Tony, that's sort of the same thing. I guess...that's probably the reason why he's so receptive to you." 

  


"What's the same thing? I...I'm just getting more confused." Steve said. "Could we please go back to Tony's exes? I think that was the main problem." 

  


"It is, sure, but this definitely factors into it, so I'll tell you this, too." Rhodey sighed. "The only worth Tony thinks he has is whatever's between his legs. At least, to people." 

  


Steve looked geniunely horrified by that notion. Rhodey gave him credit for that. 

  


"But--but he, no! He's Iron Man! He's strong and a _good man_ , and a hero--" 

  


"Tony Stark _isn't_." Rhodey said. "Iron Man _is_. To _Tony_ , there's a difference, Steve." 

  


"No there isn't!" Steve snapped. "The Iron Man suit is just a shell for Tony, which means any good Iron Man does is just Tony--" 

  


"Listen to me, Steve." Rhodey interrupted him. "I know what you're trying to say. But Tony isn't like that. Iron Man is a _part_ of him, yeah, but it's the _only_ part of him he thinks is worth anything. And fucking--fucking _S.H.I.E.L.D._ \--they just made it _worse_. Do you know he's not really an Avenger, Steve? _Iron Man_ is. They wanted Iron Man, but not Tony Stark. Do you know what that did to him?" Rhodey snapped. "It made _everything_ worse, and Fury knew that, damn him!" 

  


There was silence in the room that hung heavy and pregnant with tension after his outburst. Steve's face was blank. Only his eyes were alive, with a vicious, deadly sort of anger. 

  


"...They did _what_?" Steve said softly. 

  


There was a cold sort of rage there, brittle and sharp, and Rhodey knew if he pushed it, it would break--and he _also_ knew that whatever lurked behind it was awesome and terrible in its scope. It would be a vicious beast, but it would be one that could be tamed with the promise of Tony's safety--which was why Rhodey kept pushing. 

  


"They took Iron Man--they took the best part of Tony, the only part of himself that he considers worthwhile--and told him that the suit was all they needed. They told him, clear as day, that _he_ wasn't needed. That the only worth he had to anyone was as Iron Man." Rhodey said, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. "You know what that did to him, Steve?" 

  


Steve was shaking. 

  


"No." He said hoarsely. "Tell me." 

  


"Tony says he and Iron Man are one. But Tony, as Iron Man, is the only part of him with any worth. The other part? Tony Stark, plain and simple? There is _nothing there_ , Steve. Nothing he considers worth any value." Rhodey shook his head. "That part of him is good for a--a _fuck_ and nothing more, a good fuck and booze, and--I can't." Rhodey shuddered and swallowed, biting his lip. "I can't keep watching everyone in his life except for a very small group of people just fucking validate that view, over and over, and--if anything, falling in love just kept enhancing that perception for him and making it worse." 

  


Rhodey was crying. Steve let him cry. He was probably crying, too. 

  


"Everyone hurt him, Steve. And he wouldn't let us help, because the people who hurt him were, to him, the only people who gave him any value--they wanted Tony for the only thing he thought he could give; his body and his money. And Tony thought that was all he was worth, so he trusted them--he thought they were in the right. He let them hurt him. And we couldn't do a damn thing." Rhodey snapped, hastily wiping tears from his eyes. 

  


"You wanna know something, Captain? Wanna know something that tears at my heart every damn day I live, something I know I'm gonna carry with me until the day I die?" Rhodey murmured. "If I could work up the nerve to _lie_ to him--to tell him I loved him in that way, to have sex with him--he'd _listen_ to me. He'd let me help him _far_ more than he does now. He might...he might be happy." He shrugged haplessly. "But I can't. I just...I can't." 

  


"Because it would be wrong, and you know that." Steve said softly. "It wouldn't fix anything, in the long run. You'd leave, in the end, because no one can keep up that kind of charade forever, and you'd both be worse off for it." He shook his head. "There's no shame in being unable to do it, Rhodey." 

  


"I know." Rhodey murmured. "But...it hurt, Captain. He would come in with all these different women on his arm, and he'd let them wring him dry and fuck him raw and leave him a wreck on the floor, both literally and metaphorically, and--and if I so much as asked him to eat dinner, he'd laugh right in my face and go back to work." Rhodey swallowed. "He let them hurt him so much. I was just scared for him. Wasn't sure if you would do the same. I'm sorry." 

  


" _Never_ ," Steve said, and there was a fire in his voice, a furious passion that made Rhodey shiver at the sheer force of it, " _never_ , in a thousand _years_ , would I hurt Tony. And _no one else_ will, either--not as long as I'm around!" He shouted. 

  


Steve was furious now. The beast, whatever it was, was free; it showed all over his face, in his bearing, in the way he moved now, pacing about the room, tossing his head back on occasion as if to roar a challenge towards those who had harmed his mate. Rhodey would have panicked, had he not recognized even then that the beast was leashed to Tony; the only thing that could rouse that kind of anger within Steve was Tony himself, which meant, thank god, that he was safe. He just had to weather out the storm of Steve's rage for a bit. 

  


"It isn't _Iron Man_ who's my best friend. It isn't _Iron Man_ who's given me my place in the future. It wasn't _Iron Man_ who _saved me_. It was _Tony_. It was _always_ Tony. It's Tony Stark that I care about--I don't give a damn about the armor. I care about the man beneath." Steve snapped. "I am here to help Tony. I am here to _protect_ Tony. And I won't let anyone get in my way--especially not Tony himself." 

  


"Good answer." Rhodey said. All the fight seemed to have left him. "Captain, truth is, I don't know what you can do, though." 

  


"I can make Tony see how much he matters." Steve said through clenched teeth. "He'll know. I'll teach him. It's not that hard--I already _know_ how much he matters." 

  


"Good luck." Rhodey sighed. His pride _and_ his body were keen on taking a beating today. "Seems...seems I misjudged you, Captain. I'm sorry for that." 

  


"Don't be." Steve said. "From what you've told me, you had every reason to worry. I respect that. It means you care. And Tony really needs people who care." 

  


"Definitely." Rhodey agreed. Steve nodded. Most of the tension had left the room now, replaced with something else Steve couldn't quite name. Regardless of what it was...Rhodey seemed pleased. So he was all right. 

  


"I do have a question, though..." Steve murmured. "You've had more experience taking care of Tony. Even if you didn't get through to him, I don't doubt your methods are sound." He smiled self-consciously, clearly nervous. "If...if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to know how you did it. I think your advice could help me." 

  


"I'm sure. At least, here's hoping." Rhodey agreed. "I'd be happy to help, Captain." 

  


Steve settled in to listen intently, his mind focused on the sole need to help Tony. He owed him that much. And he owed _Rhodey_ that much as well... 

  


...

JARVIS stopped recording the conversation then. That was all Tony needed to hear. 

  


So as Steve and Rhodey talked on, oblivious, Tony sat in his lab and watched the video and listened to the audio, his face ashen. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. He didn't notice them, didn't bother to wipe them away. 

  


He felt sick to his stomach. Steve _knew_. Rhodey had told him? Why? How could he? Why would he do that? 

  


And...everything else Rhodey had said...about his exes, and how he and Pepper had been so worried, and everything was just a wreck, and Tony hated himself so much that he wanted to just curl up on the floor of the lab and throw the reactor into the incinerator. 

  


But...what Steve had said about Iron Man. 

  


Tony's throat worked reflexively. Steve considered him...he considered him a friend. Not just a friend, maybe? Maybe later. When he got better. If Tony got better Steve would love him. He had to get better for Steve. 

  


Tony hugged himself tight and closed his eyes. 

  


Steve hadn't said anything harsh about him. Steve had wanted to take care of him. Steve wanted to hold him tight and help him get better, and he didn't want to fuck him. 

  


That stung. That hurt a lot, because...it meant...he wasn't worth it. But Steve had said he was beautiful. He had told him so. Which meant that Tony was just confused now. 

  


Tony swallowed. It was different with Steve. Maybe he just didn't understand. Tony would explain it to him later. But for now, maybe, he could be okay with Steve wanting to be his friend. That was more than he deserved from Steve, to be honest. 

  


It was Rhodey he really wanted to talk to right now. He and Rhodey had to have a discussion, urgently so. 

  


Tony stood up straight and wiped the tears from his eyes, putting the final touch on the arm of the suit before heading out of the lab and upstairs towards Steve's room. 

  
...

Tony knocked on the door, hearing soft murmurs from behind it. Steve's voice responded with a warmth that spread right through his heart and all throughout his body, "Come on in, Tony." 

  


Tony opened the door and came in without a word. Steve was sitting crosslegged on the bed, a notebook on his lap. His eyes lit up as Tony walked in. 

  


Rhodey was watching him from the other side of the bed, his gaze intense and considering. Tony swallowed. 

  


"I need to talk to Rhodey for a bit, Steve," Tony said gently, "I think everyone's going to be home in a few minutes. We're going to go for a walk--do you want to wait here for them?" 

  


"That would be lovely." Steve agreed. "Could you take an apple or something with you when you go, please? I won't ask you to wait to eat lunch before you have your discussion, but I'd like you to eat something." 

  


"Okay," Tony whispered, "if you say so, Steve." 

  


"Thank you, Tony." Steve replied. "You two have fun. I'll be in the living room, all right?" He smiled. "Call JARVIS if you need me to do anything. He'll let me know." 

  


"I will," Tony promised, "be careful. Don't answer the door for anyone but the others." 

  


"I know, I know," Steve said, grinning in amusement, "I'm not a kid, Tony. But...you be careful too!" 

  


He got up off the bed in one fluid movement and let them both be, leaving the room and heading downstairs to watch some television and wait for the others to show up back at the mansion. 

  


Rhodey looked at Tony. His eyes were hollow and brittle with loneliness and betrayal. Rhodey wasn't quite sure as to why, but it worried him. He swallowed. 

  


"C'mon, Tony." He murmured. "Let's go for a walk."

  
...

They walked in silence for a few minutes, moving down the sidewalk, their hands in their pockets. 

  


"So." Tony said quietly. "You told him." 

  


"I did." Rhodey agreed. It didn't surprise him that Tony had recorded the conversation. In all truth, he had been expecting it. "I had to. He didn't--he didn't know, Tony. And he had to. It was too important to keep hidden from him." 

  


"I trusted you." Tony said, his voice soft with pain. "I trusted you, and--and _you told him_!"

  


Tony backed away from him, his eyes wild with betrayal. Rhodey closed his eyes. God, a knife to the heart would have hurt less. 

  


Tony swallowed, his hands shaking as he gestured around the sidewalk vaguely, shaking his head as he started to tremble. 

  


Rhodey, he--he's _Captain America_ , he's from the 1940s, and--and I know he'll never love me, so I just--I was just going to hide it away as best as I could, and then you--you--why?" Tony snapped. "Why did you do that, Rhodey? I don't understand!" 

  


"Because he _knew_ , Tony." Rhodey said gently. "Part of him _did_ know. He was afraid to accept it, but I made him do it. He knew, Tony, and...and I think he loves you back, to be honest." Rhodey swallowed. "He cares." 

  


"He doesn't love me like that." Tony whispered. "He hasn't tried to touch me, or kiss me, or...y'know, do anything." He shrugged. "And it isn't because of the reactor, he's clearly enamored with the thing, so he just thinks I'm unfuckable, which--" 

  


"Tony, for god's sake, _shut up_!" Rhodey snapped. Tony blinked, stopping in his tracks and tilting his head, staring at Rhodey like a confused puppy. Rhodey would have found it adorable had he not wanted to start yelling. 

  


"You don't know that." Rhodey said carefully, resisting the urge to yell or snap. "Tony, you know he's...got different values. He's being a gentleman. He's courting you. He's being sweet, and protective, and nurturing, and--I know that's new to you, but it really does mean he loves you. I promise." 

  


"But he doesn't want me." Tony murmured plaintively. "He doesn't _want_ me." 

  


He looked up at Rhodey and blinked, his eyes shining just a little. 

  


"I'm good-looking, right?" Tony said. "I mean, I know, the scars, the reactor, but--I mean, I've got muscle, I'm careful with my hair, I mean, is there anything--like, I know I'm getting a bit older, but, god--" 

  


"Tony, that has _nothing_ to do with it." Rhodey interrupted him. "Ssh. You need to calm down. It isn't that Steve--that Steve doesn't...want to have sex with you. You don't know if he does or doesn't. But you do know he thinks you're beautiful. So don't start this, Tony." 

  


"He doesn't want to fuck me!" Tony snapped. "If--if he really thought I was so good-looking, then--" 

  


Rhodey pulled Tony into a tight hug, because in all truth, he could think of absolutely nothing else to do. A feeling of overwhelming, helpless despair absolutely swamped him as he was confronted with the bleak reality that Tony honestly saw nothing within himself that Steve would want except for his body. He didn't know what to tell him. 

  


"I'm sorry." Rhodey whispered. "I'm so sorry I told him. I thought I was helping." 

  


"You weren't," Tony muttered, "this is just going to make everything worse. He'll know I'm in love with him and he'll never want to be my friend, and...and then I'll be _alone_." 

  


"You're not alone, Tony." Rhodey said quietly. "You have me. You have Pep. You--" 

  


"It's different." Tony snapped. "It's different and you know it! You don't--you can't--it's _different_!" 

  


Rhodey hated himself for this. He knew that, had he taken a moment to reflect on it a little further, he probably would've talked himself out of the idea, but in the heat of the moment, with Tony wrapped up in his denial and despair, he had to reach him the only way he knew how. 

  


"Doesn't have to be, Tony," Rhodey whispered, before carefully grabbing his chin and, very gently, pulling Tony into a kiss. 

  


It was not a romantic, passionate kiss, searing with lust and desire; it was a warm, soft kiss that melted between the two of them. Rhodey's gut twisted at the feel of Tony's lips on his; guilt swamped him and he immediately regretted doing it. 

  


They pulled away after a few more seconds. Tony stared at him. 

  


"Yeah," Tony whispered, his voice hoarse, "yeah, it does. We both know that now, don't we?" 

  


And Rhodey did. He knew as incontrovertible fact that he would have never been able to kiss Tony, let alone have sex with him, and thus, he would have never been able to get close enough to help him. 

  


He hated himself so much in that moment that if Tony had punched him, he probably would've given him a medal. 

  


As it was, Tony just began to cry. 

  


It was horrible watching him cry, really, because he tried not to sound like he was weeping, and hiding the small, hiccuping sobs just made it so much worse. Rhodey felt sick to his stomach. 

  


"M'such a slut," He whispered, "what'll Steve think? G-god, I--I mean, he's a fucking _virgin_ , and I--I'm a fucking whore, making out with his best friend, fucking anyone who wants to even bother getting _close_ , and I--I can't--" 

  


"Tony, I'm so sorry..." Rhodey murmured, "this was my fault. You didn't kiss me. I kissed you. It's okay. Steve will understand. He _loves you,_ Tony. He loves you so much, and I promise he doesn't care about who you've kissed. He just wants to help you." 

  


"There's nothing to help!" Tony snapped. "Nothing that isn't dirty and rotten--I hate it, I hate this, I hate everything, I hate _myself_ why did you tell him, _why_ \--" 

  


"Because you deserve him." Rhodey interrupted him. 

  


Tony fell silent. Rhodey continued on, the words tumbling from his mouth without his brain playing interference. 

  


"You've had so many lovers, Tony, and they've all hurt you, time and time again, like it's clockwork or something. You let them use you and hurt you because you think that's what you deserve. But you don't." Rhodey sighed. 

  


"Oh, Tone. You _deserve_ someone like him. Someone big and strong and powerful that can protect you, and someone that cares and defends and nurtures, so they can love you. You _always_ deserved someone like him. That's why I told him. Because..." Rhodey swallowed. 

  


"I can't be your lover, Tony. I can't know you like that. But he can. And he wants to. And so do you. And you _deserve_ that. You deserve so much better than what you'll allow yourself, and, truth be told, I've spent too long on the sidelines watching you completely lose yourself, and being totally helpless to do anything about it." Rhodey grinned despite himself. "And that's why he had to know. Because he can help you where I can't. And...I owed you that much. I had to give him to you, as much as I could. M'sorry, Tony." 

  


Tony looked at him for a little while. 

  


"...Did I really hurt you that much?" Tony whispered. "Did I really make you cry? I...I'm sorry, Rhodey. I don't know why you stayed." 

  


"I stayed for three reasons, Tony," Rhodey said gently, "because I understood, for one. Two, because I was waiting for someone like Steve to show up in your life, truth be told. I just...had to take some time before I could accept that it wasn't going to be me." He smiled. "Third reason's really just because you're my friend, and I care about you." 

  


There was silence for a second. Tony looked away. Rhodey let him have his moment of privacy. 

  


"Rhodey?" Tony huffed, clearly trying not to smile and clearly failing. "You don't have to be Steve to help. You're doing a pretty good job as it is." 

  


Rhodey hugged him tight. 

  


"I know," he murmured, "but he's different. He's going to change you, Tony, and for the better. I just...want to be around to help where I can, and watch you get better." 

  


"M'glad you're still here," Tony whispered, "I wouldn't be here for him to help if I didn't have you." 

  


"I know, Tony," Rhodey's voice was starting to tremble, "God, I know. I'm so glad you're here..." 

  


"Yeah, well, me too." Tony muttered, and the normal dry tone had crept back into his voice. Rhodey almost cried, he was so relieved. 

  


"You know I've gotta head back out tomorrow..." Rhodey began. Tony nodded, sighing heavily. Rhodey squeezed his hand. "Y'know what, though, the War Machine armor can still take calls from your suit." 

  


"I'll call you as soon as I can." Tony said. Rhodey grinned. 

  


"Yeah, I know." He replied. "Keep me posted on Steve, all right? And...y'know, how you're doing." Rhodey sighed. "Please let him help. And...if you don't talk to him about what I told him, I get it. But if he brings up the subject, don't hide from him, Tony." Rhodey begged. "Please. You deserve this." 

  


"I dunno about that, but whatever." Tony agreed. "I'll...I'll talk to him. If he brings it up." 

  


It wasn't perfect, but it was close enough. Rhodey would take that small victory for the time being. 

  


The two walked for some time after that, just enjoying the sunshine together as friends. For a little while, Tony's hand found his, and Rhodey knew it wasn't a romantic gesture--he just wanted someone to hold on to. Everything was changing around him, and he was scared. 

  


So Rhodey took his hand and squeezed back, holding it for as long as he could until they made it back to the mansion. 

  


Steve came to greet them at the door. An unspoken conversation passed between the two of them as their eyes met. 

  


Without a word, Rhodey let go of Tony's hand and let Steve take it, very gentle and careful as he pulled Tony inside so they could start dinner. 

  


He watched them make their way inside for a second and smiled before heading in after them, shaking his head. 

  



	30. Unicorn Herpes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clint and Coulson talk to Steve. Much fuss is made over unicorns, herpes, and fingerprints. Not necessarily in that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So first, happy Easter, everyone!  
> Second, I tried to make Steve as understanding as possible without being too ridiculous. I don't think he was ever the type to get hung up over homosexuality--it was more that it didn't exist for him. He could barely get a girl until after the serum, I doubt he paid much thought to loving dudes. (Except for Bucky, they were pretty gay in the movie, not gonna lie.)  
> Anyways, my shipper goggles being glued to my face aside, I hope this doesn't come off as too ridiculously OOC. I tried to make it realistically understanding and accepting while still having a few hang-ups...but I'm sure there's a fic out there with Steve/Tony and Steve having homophobic hang-ups preventing their true love. I know, I've read them. This is not that fic. Mostly because I write enough sads for myself and I'm not doing that, too.  
> And so that's it! I hope everyone enjoys their Easter if they celebrate it, and also, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. ^^

Before Tony and Rhodey made it back to the mansion, however, Steve found himself embroiled in a conversation that was both exhilirating and incredibly confusing. 

  


Clint was the first one to make his way into the living room, a quiver slung over his shoulder as he grinned, carefree and peaceful. Steve looked up and paused what he had playing to smile back at him. 

  


"Hey, Clint," he greeted him, "is everyone else with you?" 

  


"Yep," Clint said, "we had fun in the park, I think. I mean, Natasha and I spent most of the time up in the trees shooting at the pigeons. But we couldn't hurt them, because Thor's taken a shine to them, and none of us wanted to piss him off." Clint shrugged. "They're kinda cute, I guess. They let Coulson pet them. He had pretzels. Pigeons will do a lot for pretzels." 

  


"I see." Steve said, keeping his tone light. "And where is Coulson?" 

  


"Right here, Steve," Coulson said, entering the room, "and don't worry. Clint and I haven't forgotten about the discussion." He gestured upstairs. "So the others have been sent to muck about upstairs while we talk. Where are Tony and Rhodey?" 

  


"On a walk." Steve sighed. "I...I think they have a lot to talk about." 

  


"I see." Coulson said carefully, keeping his tone neutral. "Well, so do we. So I suppose it's all right." He sat down. "May I...begin? I just..." He looked nervous. "I suppose I have something to clarify first." 

  


"Baby, this isn't a de-briefing." Clint said, and his voice had a soft, gentle tone to it that Steve recognized, despite not being quite sure why. It took him a second before it hit him--he heard it in his own voice every time he comforted Tony. 

  


"I...I know." Coulson replied. "That's not it. I just...it's..." He shrugged. "I figured Steve should know that I do not know a lot about living my life openly. Either I am a secret agent, which, by nature, demands a bit of deception, or I am...in a polyamorous relationship--" 

  


"That you know no one judges you for, Phil." Clint snapped. Coulson shrugged. 

  


"I...Well, he's Captain America..." Coulson began in a soft tone, and it hit Steve then; even if he didn't show it like the others did, Coulson respected him for who he was and what he stood for. If he rejected him out of hand for having more than one lover, Coulson would smooth his face into an impassive mask and nod in agreement to whatever he said...but it would kill a part of him that Steve wanted to let grow and flourish. He wanted Coulson to be happy. 

  


"Regardless of my title or the position I have," Steve started, his voice quiet and firm, "I don't let that influence my line of thought or my opinions. And my personal opinion is this; if it makes you happy, and it makes Clint and Natasha happy, then it's none of my business, and I will hope for nothing but the best for you otherwise." Steve shook his head. "It doesn't matter, Phil. We're friends, right? And that means I want to see you smile." 

  


Coulson swallowed. His hands were shaking. It was mild, but Steve noticed it; it was so out of place for the normally unflappable agent, after all. 

  


His eyes were wet and he didn't say anything for a second. Then he nodded, and when he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion Steve knew it took a lot for him to restrain. 

  


"Likewise, Steve." Coulson murmured. "I'll help you as much as I am able." 

  


"Me too," Clint piped up, "and thanks for looking out for Phil, by the way. Sometimes he sorta lets himself fall by the wayside 'cause we all take so much work." 

  


"I bet." Steve smiled. "But you and Natasha take good care of him, don't you?" 

  


"Best we can." Clint agreed, his voice suddenly taking on a warmer, more emotional air. "We owe it to him." 

  


He leaned forward and put his chin in his palms, looking up at Steve eagerly. 

  


"So fill me in, boy scout," Clint said, "what's the deal?" 

  


"Well, Rhodey told me Tony's in love with me." Steve said. 

  


It was strange how easily he could say that. He would have never dared speak that sentence back in the 40s. He knew that. It would have meant ostracism, bullying, misery--heck, probably certain death. But that simply wasn't true anymore--maybe that was why it was so easy... 

  


"Well, uh... _duh_." Clint agreed. "Seriously." 

  


"Clint, be fair." Coulson chided him. "Steve comes from a different era." 

  


"Yeah, I know, but he's like, practically drooling on you. Like, it's so obvious! He...he's so much happier." Clint frowned. "Maybe it isn't obvious. 'Cause you didn't see him sad, like he was before." Clint shook his head. "He hurt a lot, right, Phil?" 

  


"It was a miracle he was still alive." Coulson marveled, shaking his head. "I honestly pegged him as the type to drink himself to death."

  


" _Never._ " Steve snarled, and they both paused, realizing they had set something off in him. All Steve could see was Howard, a bottle of gin in his hand, blueprints in a clenched, trembling fist. His friend, dead with a bottle of whiskey on the floor of his car. His father, a bottle in his hand, breaking it across his mother's face before he downed what was left inside while Steve lay in bed, cursing his weakness for not letting him protect his mother. 

  


The stench of alcohol swamped him, then, and a vision came to him, birthed of liquor and malt; Tony in his lab, trembling, crying, bottles of beer surrounding him, puddles of vodka mixing with whiskey, amber in the clear, still liquid. Tears splashed in the pools of alcohol as he cried for someone to save him that would never come. 

  


Steve put a trembling hand over his eyes for a second as if to block out what existed only in his mind--hopefully forever. He could never let this come to pass. He had to--he had to-- 

  


"Have to protect Tony." He whispered. "Never gonna let him die. Not because of that. Not ever." 

  


"...Okay, Steve." Coulson said gently. "He's alive now. He's happier because of you. Isn't that enough for you to see it?" He shook his head. "I guess it is pretty obvious, when I think about it. He's in love with you, Steve." His tone became gentle and empathetic as he tsked softly. "Is that what you want to talk about?" 

  


Steve nodded, unable to speak for a second. Coulson put a hand on his shoulder. 

  


"It's okay." He told him. "That's fine. It does explain why you asked Clint and I, specifically..." He sighed. "Like I said before, Captain, I don't really have a lot of romantic experience. Clint's the first--and last--man I've ever been with, and...I just don't know if I can be of any help." 

  


"All I need to know is what it feels like to love a man." Steve asked. "I mean...there's a reason for that, obviously." He sighed. 

  


"To tell you the truth, I knew Tony was in love with me almost from the start. It was the way he smiled. The way he talked to me, too--he always has this note of...I don't know, urgency and dryness in his tone when he talks to everyone else, like he has somewhere else to be and he's thinking about a million other things that are fascinating him somewhere else, but...it's never in his voice when he talks to me. He talks to me like he could stay there forever and talk to me about anything. That makes me really happy." Steve confessed. "But it's not just that..." He shrugged. 

  


"He's so vulnerable around me. He's really so frail and timid and lonely, and he never let anyone else see it--and I mean, finally, he's letting the armor down, and I...I'm so proud that I get to be the one to watch it happen and help him get strong on his own two feet. But it's very strange to be the one in charge of helping him. He cries in front of me--I don't think he does that for anyone else." Steve tilted his head. 

  


"He let me draw him, too. He was always so...so open with me, in every way. He talked to me about his problems. I listened. I wanted to help. I still do. I want to help him and hold him and make him feel better." Steve smiled. "And...he let me hold his heart in his hands." 

  


He looked down at his hands and shook his head, amazed. A few hours ago and no more, and they had held the arc reactor within their grasp, its warm surface whirring beneath the touch of his skin.

  


"He--he let you touch the reactor?" Coulson said. He sounded genuinely shocked. "Oh, Steve. Do you know what--" 

  


"What _that man_ did to him?" Steve said, his voice filled with the quiet rage that belied the beast lurking beneath. "Do I know who hurt _my Tony_? Do I know about how he shakes and cries when you get close to the reactor? Do I know how he lets _machines_ hurt him, because he _knows_ that pain, at least--at least he can handle _that_ pain, but he won't, he won't have to, not anymore, because--because I'm here. _I'm here_ , and I'm going to help him. I'm going to keep his heart _safe_. I _know_ that." 

  


There was silence in the living room for a moment. Steve's eyes were fiery sapphires and his teeth were bared. Coulson and Clint just looked at each other. 

  


"...Well, I think Phil meant more like "did you know what happened with the whole Iron Monger thing," but the homoerotic aside was really beneficial, too." Clint piped up, trying not to grin and failing miserably. 

  


"So, he let you touch the reactor," Coulson murmured, giving Clint a look before adding, "that's...amazing. Steve, you should feel honored. He's...he's had issues with it for awhile." 

  


"I know." Steve replied. "I told him I'd protect it." He sighed. "But that's the thing, y'know? I look at Tony and, I mean...sure, he's swell, and he's just the most amazing guy, but...what if this is just because I want to protect him? I mean, he's just so scared, and so vulnerable...and I want to make him better. I want to help him and hold him and make sure he knows he's safe, and wanted, and...and I mean, I'd do that for anyone on my team." Steve said. "I want to keep you all safe. You're my friends, my comrades, and...I will protect you, I promise." He shrugged. "But, with Tony..." 

  


"The thing I think you need to consider, Captain, is just _why_ , exactly, you want to protect Tony." Coulson told him. "You want to protect _us_ because we're your teammates. That's fine--admirable, even. But that means you want us to be safe in the thick of battle. With _Tony_...why do you want to keep him safe? And from _what_?" 

  


Steve sat there for five minutes, at least, sorting it all out in his mind carefully, his eyes closed and his breathing slow and even. Clint and Coulson were beginning to get worried by the time his eyes suddenly opened. 

  


"I want to protect Tony because I know that once he knows he's safe and loved and wanted for who he is, and _not,_ just for once, for what he can provide, he'll start to come out of his armor. He'll learn that he's got friends. He'll know that he has me." Steve smiled. "And when that happens...when he knows he's safe and sound and that someone cares about him...he'll be happy." Steve nodded. 

  


"I want to protect Tony because I want him to be happy. I want him to get better. And in the end, I guess I want him to understand--not just know, because you can know something and not really feel it, I think--that...that he's loved." Steve swallowed. 

  


"That, uh...that _I_ love him, I guess," Steve whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of his words, "that the reason I want to keep him safe is because I think that he's worth saving. Because he matters to me. Not Iron Man. Tony Stark." Steve nodded. 

  


"I...I think..." He shrugged. "Do you feel that, I mean? Like, I just...there are all these feelings in me, and they're confusing, honestly! I've never felt like this, not even for Peggy, because that was easy--she was a woman, she was beautiful, she liked me, I liked her, that's not complicated, but Tony--" Steve groaned. "Gosh, but _Tony_..." 

  


"Tony is the very _definition_ of complicated." Coulson said solemnly, trying not to betray a twitch in his cheek at the memories. "Steve, the way I feel about Clint..." He sighed. "Okay, I'll be upfront with you; love is like a fingerprint. No two loves are alike, and they don't feel the same, either. But the effect is the same, and you can pick it up immediately." 

  


"...And you dust at crimescenes to find them as clues?" Clint ventured haphazardly. Coulson massaged his temples and smiled despite himself. 

  


"Yes, why not?" Coulson said, trying not to laugh and failing. He looked up at Steve and got serious suddenly, adding, "but...Steve, Clint and I--well, Clint, Natasha, and I--but, you know..." He shrugged. "I understood everything you said." He sighed, and Steve knew the weight of that empathy hurt him. 

  


"It frightens me when they go out into the field. I know they're capable. I know they're clever. I know they're powerful. But, god--I want to be out there with them, even if I'd probably get in their way, just so I could be an extra gun, another fighter, someone to keep them safe..." Coulson swallowed. "All I want to do is protect them and keep them safe. I love them. I would save them from every fight, if I could--if I had to hunt down every criminal in the world and shoot them point-blank to keep Clint and Natasha safe, I would." Coulson sighed. 

  


"But I also know that there are some fights that you just can't fight, Captain." Coulson murmured. "Sometimes you have to let them slog it out on their own, and you'll be helpless to do anything but watch as they get banged up and broken, bleeding and bruised from fights both mental and physical until they drag themselves back home, a complete wreck and in need of care." Coulson shuddered, like this had occurred before. From the look on Clint's face, Steve suspected it had. 

  


"And then you fight a different kind of fight, and you use a different kind of shield to save them," Coulson murmured, "you hold them close and wash them off, you bandage their wounds and you give them medicine, and you put them to bed and sing them to sleep. That's all you can do. But it's protecting them, in its own way. It's shielding them from letting their wounds fester, and it's healing the wounds before they can leave a scar. And maybe, if you're really lucky, it'll stay with them when they inevitably go out and fight again, and it will protect them in the next battle." 

  


"Tony's fought on his own for _long enough_." Steve said through clenched teeth. "He's not going to fight alone in any way, any more, _ever_." 

  


"I know." Coulson replied. "But sometimes, you might not be fighting at the same time. Sometimes, Steve, Tony's going to bring the battlefield home with him. And that's when it's up to _you_ to fight." 

  


"...All right." Steve whispered. "That...that's very good advice, Coulson." He swallowed. "Thank you." He shook his head. "But...how do you feel? Is it different when you look at a man? What does that kind of love feel like?" He asked. 

  


"It's the same thing, Steve." Clint promised. "Believe me, I know. Phil's kind of nebbish about the whole thing, 'cause he was married to his job until we made him get a divorce, but--" He grinned and took out an arrowhead from one of his jacket's many pockets, starting to fiddle with it as Coulson glared at him.

  


"Y'know, when you love a man, it's...sorta the same, but different. I mean, I look at Natasha, and she's all warm and soft and I just want to snuggle her, because she's all cuddly and her boobs are soft," Clint remarked, apparently unaware of Steve's sudden blush as he averted his gaze, "but like, the love that's there, I mean...the sorta apple-pie love that you probably invented, 'cause you're Captain America, it...it doesn't really change." He shrugged. 

  


"The thing is, though, sometimes you gotta act on it different. Like I can buy Nat chocolates, but I think Phil would just laugh at me." He grinned. "Which is cool, 'cause I'm sure he shouldn't be eating too much sugar. I doubt it'd help him deal with us, y'know?" He shook his head. "Anyways, but then, like...I'd get Phil something like, I dunno, a new record, and...and then he smiles, and I just...I guess I kiss him, 'cause I'm totally crap at romantic junk. But his lips are a little more rough than Natasha's. It's nice, though." Clint said. 

  


"So...I think what you mean is it varies from person to person, and gender...doesn't really matter, I think." Steve said. "I mean, it sounds more like you just love the person the way they need to be loved." 

  


"Yeah, that's it!" Clint agreed. "You said it better than I did, though." He nodded. "And I think the thing is, most of the time, guys and girls need to be loved different, even if you love them in the same way. And Tony needs to be loved really different, 'cause he's really fuckin' confusing and shit." He sighed. "Aw, hell, Steve. You've got a mess on your hands." 

  


"He's not a mess, he's _hurt_ , and he needs my help!" Steve shook his head. "Clint, that's just it--I...if I love him, then...I..." Steve nodded. "I just...I feel warm when I'm with him. Like I want to treat him right and hold him close and buy him flowers and take him dancing, and, I mean, make him stop drinking maybe, and make him eat and sleep on time, and...you know, I know he'd let me. And that makes me really happy. Because it means that he trusts me." 

  


Clint stared at him, his eyes wide as he shook his head in disbelief. 

  


"...You're in love with him, and in all honesty, you're kind of making me throw up a rainbow, so if you could go be perfect somewhere else, that'd be fucking great," Clint said, shaking his head and groaning, "case closed, cross-examine the witness' pet parrot, objection overruled or whatever." 

  


"Hold it," Coulson said, "because, for starters, Steve, the truth is..." He sighed. "Don't overdo it. Not at first. Be gentle with him. And I mean..." Coulson shook his head. "Sometimes he won't need to be protected. Someday he'll be okay. He'll be whole and healed and happy." He looked at him. "Then what, Captain? Will you still want to be here? Are you just here to help him?" 

  


"Phil, you misunderstand me." Steve murmured. "I'm here to help him now so we can both enjoy his happiness later. Together." 

  


Clint and Coulson both looked at each other for a minute. Then they looked back at Steve. 

  


"You're _so_ in love with him." They chorused, like a pair of gossipy teenage girls rather than two secret agents. 

  


"Agreed." Natasha piped up from behind them, coming in as quiet as a cat's paw and slipping in between her boys. "And as for what you said, Phil..." She kissed his cheek tenderly. "I am always honored I am the recipient of your affections." 

  


"Likewise." Coulson murmured gently. 

  


"As for the Captain, he and Tony are very much in love," Natasha agreed, "and Tony ought to know you are the recipient of _his_ affections, no?" 

  


"Verily!" Thor cheered, breaking down the living room door. Steve sighed. He would talk to Tony about re-enforcing it. "You two and your courtship are made of that delightful colored spun sugar. It is...tooth-rotting!" 

  


"...I...thank you, Thor." Steve mumbled. He wasn't quite sure if he had just been complimented or insulted. Truth be told, he suspected the former; Thor was nowhere near as silver-tongued as his brother, and backhanded compliments were probably too complex for him. 

  


"He's right, you know," Bruce mused, coming in behind Thor and shaking his head, amused, "you're going to inspire a rash of adorable kitten videos on the Internet. You're just that adorable. It's infectious. Like herpes." 

  


"So love is like herpes and fingerprints." Clint said. "Okay, got it." He paused for a second. "Also, we might have a problem." 

  


"Well, I was going to go with chlamydia, but I think that's curable." Bruce said. "Honestly, these two and their tooth-rotting cuteness will last forever and show up when we least expect it. Y'know, like during dinner, and Steve will come in with roses..."

  


"And then Tony will buy him a unicorn..." Natasha added, looking immensely amused. 

  


"And then Steve will ride with him on it on top of a rainbow..." Clint continued. Thor pumped his fist, delighted. 

  


"The Bifrost would be honored to transport my shieldbrothers on their grand and glorious journey of courtship!" He cheered. "I will begin to make preparations immediately!" 

  


Steve sat in the middle of this, more confused than he had ever been in his entire life. He suspected they were trying, in their own way, to help him along in this. 

  


He smiled at the thought as much as it filled him with despair and dread. 

  


"Thank you for the help." He murmured. "And...Clint, Phil?" He smiled. "Thank you. You...you cleared up a lot. And it helped me understand a few things. About myself and Tony, I mean." 

  


"I'm a little surprised you're not more hung up about him being a man, if I may be so frank, Steve." Coulson said. "I mean...no offense, but the 1940s..." 

  


"I know that my time didn't look too kindly on homosexuals..." Steve sighed. "But I am not emblematic of every view of my time, Phil--that much should be obvious." He shook his head and smiled. 

  


"And it doesn't matter, does it? I don't love Tony because he's a man. I love him because he's _Tony_ , and I'm loving him just the way he needs to be loved--and the way I need to love _him_ , to be honest." Steve confessed. "I want to be with him. Gender has nothing to do with. Love, however...does." He shook his head. 

  


"But I won't confess yet." He murmured. As everyone immediately began to protest, Steve held up a hand. "There's a reason, though." He sighed. 

  


"Tony isn't ready for a relationship." He said. "He needs to get better. And when he gets better--when I get to know the real Tony, whole and healed--then I will fall in love with him, too, and he and I can have the relationship that Tony's working towards now." Steve murmured. "He needs to know that he can be loved just as simply Tony Stark before I can ever love him." 

  


"Fair enough, Captain." Coulson said. "We'll be here to help." He sighed. "And, for the record...good luck."

  


"Thank you." Steve murmured. "And for the record...believe me, I don't need it." He grinned. "All I have to do is keep Tony safe. And I've got a shield for that already." 

  


"Ooh, so the boy scout brought protection." Clint teased. "So much for your herpes theory, Doctor Banner." 

  


Coulson elbowed Clint in the side, and his whining protests meant Steve couldn't talk over him to ask them all what the heck they were talking about. 

  



	31. Being a Gentleman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Steve have a little chat. Rhodey has an entire arsenal at his command. The whole entire cast are my babies. And Steve is a gentleman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, feels and stuff. Why are any of you surprised? If you are, you should not be.  
> Also. The Avengers premiere.  
> IDSFHSFHERGHGHTU#ERUJ$#WHGgHE ASLAKDLDFHDHGFLKDG  
> Okay that's all.  
> OH MY GOD THO THOSE PEOPLE JESUS CAN'T EVEN HANDLE THEM OH MY GOD ROBERT DOWNEY JUNIOR YOU NEED TO APOLOGIZE FOR YOUR PERFECTION. I WANT A PUBLIC APOLOGY. POSSIBLY NAKED. THANKS.  
> And is it bad I see Chris Evans and I want to nanny him? It's really bad, isn't it. I'm worrying about him throughout the whole thing. Oh honey please be careful if you get an anxiety attack stay safe AUGH  
> I really do mother him, which is weird, since his character mothers the hell out of Tony in this. Woops.  
> Anywho, this chapter does kinda make me sad. But it helps that Steve is amazing. Also my thoughts are a little fried from the Avengers, sorry.

Eventually, though, everyone made their way back to the mansion for dinner; Pepper brought home something from the Mongolian barbeque two blocks from where she had been in a meeting, and no one mentioned that Bruce sat next to her and asked her about her day before making her a cup of tea.

 

Tony was...at peace, almost. Steve was relieved, but he didn't bring it up--still, having seen Tony leave the house a nervous wreck had made him anxious, and knowing that whatever Rhodey had told him was enough made Steve feel better by a huge measure. He let Tony joke and tease and laugh at the table, keeping quiet save for a few responses to any question Tony posed to him.

 

Pepper laid her head on Bruce's shoulder by the end of the night. Over the catcalls, Bruce hastily justified it as the effects of the three cups of chamomile with lavender and honey he had given her, but Steve noticed the tender way he touched her neck and made sure she was comfortable. He just smiled and finished his ice cream. They could work that one out on their own.

 

Steve's skin prickled for a second, and as he looked up, he realized Tony's eyes were boring into his, the warm hazel sharp and alive. Steve swallowed. His eyes were stunning, really. Unique and brilliant. He had to ask Tony to let him draw them.

 

"Hey, Steve." Tony said, and there was a tone to his words that Steve couldn't quite name, which made him worry just a little. "Did you get to have your discussion?"

 

"Yes, I did," Steve said quietly, "and it was...informative. And very affirming." He smiled. "Sort of a relief, honestly. It provided resolution." He wanted to calm Tony down if he could--after all, he was going to worry if Steve didn't practically outright tell him everything. So he did his best to put on a reassuring, comforting air before he added, "How was yours?"

 

"It was good." Tony murmured. "Rhodey's always good at talking me into or out of things. It...helped." He shrugged. "Gonna miss you, Rhodes."

 

"I'll miss you too, Tony." Rhodey said, and his voice was tender as he laid a hand on Tony's shoulder. "You know I'm a phonecall away, don't you? And I'll come visit again as soon as I get leave. Transfer to New York if I'm lucky."

 

"I'll talk to S.H.I.E.L.D. and see if they can pull any strings." Tony promised. "D'ya have to leave now?" He asked. His voice had a quality to it that, had he not been a full-grown man, would have been dubbed as whining. Rhodey sighed.

 

"After dessert, Tone." He murmured. "Sorry, buddy. But I did get you cheesecake."

His eyes lit up at that, and as Rhodey went to take the cake out of the fridge, he figured he was forgiven for leaving.

...

Dessert passed by quickly, mostly because Rhodey had only bought two cheesecakes, and with so many people, all of them apparently in the possession of a hollow leg, those disappeared fast. Besides, Tony was starting to look worn out--he had been through a lot in just one day, so no one teased him for looking exhausted just barely after eleven.

 

Rhodey left at the stroke of midnight, hugging Tony goodbye before going up to Steve. They didn't say anything to each other; the communication from a single careful glance was enough. Steve saluted him. Rhodey, after giving himself a moment to smile about it, saluted back and headed for the door--but not before stopping in front of Bruce.

 

"You should know that if you hurt her I can bring down the might of the entire military's arsenal on you." He said pleasantly. "Also? I suggest you invest in a hedgehog."

 

Bruce was still sputtering about it long after Rhodey got in his car and left.

  
...

Everyone decided to just sleep over again; Tony began to loudly talk about considering an addition to the house, but Pepper just gave him a look and started bickering with him about how he spent all his time in the lab anyway so it didn't matter, and then Tony started getting huffy with her about how that time he spent in the lab was what gave her things to market through Stark Industries, and then Pepper just started yelling at him for ignoring a stud like Captain America hanging out in his house for the suit, and, throughout all this, as the two paced the kitchen like warring cats, Steve sat at the table and drew the sweeping gestures and exaggerated expressions with a mild, placid look on his face.

 

"He really does fit in here, and that is horrifying." Natasha remarked, sitting on the couch and watching from the safe haven of the living room.

 

"Agreed." Clint said, snuggled against Coulson, half-asleep and warm in his lover's embrace.

 

From within the kitchen, Steve sighed and finally held up a hand, cutting them both off.

 

"It's almost one in the morning." He said gently. "Now, while we need to talk about your bedtime and figure out a fair equilibrium, Tony, I do know already that one in the morning isn't a good time to go to sleep. You should get used to a healthier schedule, even if we do have three more days off..." He nodded at Pepper. "And you should set a good example, you know that."

 

"He started it." Pepper muttered. "I have no reason not to get in the last word. Otherwise he'll think he's won, and that's never a good idea. We'll come home with half the house knocked down, and he'll be eating a sandwich in the kitchen, having totally forgotten about the project and leaving us with half a house."

 

"Hey, that is so not true!" Tony protested. "I probably wouldn't be eating."

 

"Tony, go to bed." Steve sighed, trying not to show that he was amused. He probably failed, because Tony grinned at him.

 

"Only for you." He teased. "Night, Pep. Maybe you could go sleep on the couch with Bruce. Y'know, _set a good example_."

 

"I swear to god, Stark, you are in for a punch in the face if you keep this up!" Pepper shouted after him. Tony just laughed and continued heading upstairs. Steve huffed.

 

"Goodnight, Pepper," he smiled and kissed her hand, adding, "I think you should take his idea into consideration, personally. I mean..." Steve shrugged and straightened up. "You know, Tony's got me to take care of him now. And that means you can put yourself first for once. I suggest you give that a try." He told her.

 

He left Pepper in the kitchen, staring down at her hands and biting her lip. Steve poked his head into the living room and made sure everyone was accounted for and safe before wishing them all a good night, heading upstairs after Tony.

 

Pepper continued to stay in the kitchen, her hands shaking.

 

She headed upstairs and got undressed, leaving her work clothes in the hamper as she went into the shower and washed herself off, scrubbing down with strawberry soap. She toweled off, got out of the shower, dressed in her pajamas, and very quietly made her way back downstairs.

 

Everyone else had already fallen asleep, clearly exhausted. Bruce sat on the couch, illuminated by the pale bluish-white light of his book-light, reading a copy of The Wasteland in silence.

 

"Hey." She murmured. "Uhm. I figured I should keep an eye on everyone since Steve isn't here." She sighed. "Plus, y'know. I figured you'd like some company."

 

"It would be nice," Bruce agreed quietly, "but keeping company with weapons seems like a ridiculous idea, wouldn't you agree? Like sleeping next to your knife collection. It just makes you seem strange."

 

"Well, I live with a former arms dealer who builds suits of armor to go punch bad guys with, I'm really not that concerned about looking strange anymore." Pepper remarked. "Besides, I know weapons. They don't drink chamomile and read poetry."

 

Bruce flipped a page in his book. A few stray curls fell in his eyes.

 

"Agreed," he murmured, "I always assumed they would drink beer and read John Grisham."

 

"Probably," Pepper agreed, "now go to bed, it's getting late."

 

With that settled, the two of them eked out space on the couch and passed out together, the night falling about them as the book slid gently to the floor with a soft thud. No one stirred at the noise.

  
...

Steve showered before going in to check on Tony, so for a little while, he assumed Tony had just gone straight to bed. It was only once he came out of the adjacent bathroom and looked in his room to find Tony sitting on his bed, wrapped up in a big, fluffy blanket, that he realized the only way he was going to get Tony into bed was to force him in and glue him underneath the blankets.

 

"Nice robe." Tony commented. "Don't remember buying that."

 

"It found its way into our little hurricane of purchases." Steve said. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

 

"I wanted to stay up and talk to you." Tony murmured. "Can't I?"

 

There was one thing Steve had not quite learned and remembered about Tony Stark and that was that he could persuade better than most anyone. It didn't help that he held Steve's heart in his hands, either.

 

So Steve smiled and nodded without being entirely sure as to why, getting onto the bed beside him after pulling on a pair of pajama pants. Tony grinned, clearly delighted to be allowed into Steve's room. Steve himself just sighed, more amused than he would care to admit, and wrapped another blanket around Tony as he himself got underneath the covers.

 

"So what do you want to talk about, Tony?" Steve asked quietly. Tony yawned and shrugged, looking away for a second. He seemed to huddle into the blankets more, and he looked...almost nervous. For a second, Steve worried.

 

"Just a little bit about today." Tony confessed. "I'm...curious, honestly." He sighed.

 

"I guess I can come clean and admit that I know that everyone around me is fucking disgusted by the reactor." Tony said. "They won't look at me. If they do, then it's like their eyes...like they're not really focusing on me. Like they're focusing somewhere back in the past--before I got this in my chest..." He sighed. "Whatever. Point is, I used to turn heads if I took my shirt off." He grinned, then, but it was a dry and dark grin. "I...I still do, just for...y'know, different reasons."

 

"Tony, the reactor is beautiful to me. You know that." Steve said gently. "I think it's amazing. And I'm glad it kept you alive so we could be here, right now, together..."

 

Tony looked away again, curling the blankets around himself.

 

"I have to know, though." He murmured. "I have to hear it from you..." He swallowed. Steve was officially beginning to get concerned.

 

"Tony? Please tell me what's wrong." He said. It was a command cloaked in silk and velvet, but truth was, he didn't even need that anymore; such was his hold over Tony. He met his eyes, then, completely distraught.

 

"Why did you want to come down into the lab with me today?" Tony asked. "Why did you want to touch the thing? Why did you want to help with the reactor? Why...why did you want to help _me_?" He whispered.

 

Steve didn't say anything for awhile. Truth be told, there wasn't much he had to say. He didn't know how to tell Tony anything without him either getting the wrong idea or finding out that he loved him--and that, as much as it pained him to admit, would have to wait for awhile.

 

"Your father, when I knew him, was a great man." Steve began. Tony raised an eyebrow, but he let Steve continue. "I know now, from what you've told me, that...once he had you, he didn't...he wasn't such a good man by then. I don't know why." Steve swallowed.

 

"But I know I could've helped him, if I had been there," Steve whispered, "I would've been able to save him. And...I couldn't. And he died before I could." Steve closed his eyes and shook his head. "That'll haunt me until the day I die..." He whispered, guilt swamping him for a minute before he continued on.

 

"Truth is, Tony, I--I don't..." Steve couldn't stop the sudden nightmarish vision from flashing in front of his eyes again, and he swallowed back bile that had suddenly risen in his throat. Tony wouldn't drink again--not ever, if Steve could help it.

 

"Tony, I don't want to lose you like I lost your father. Like how I lost Bucky, and Peggy..." Steve shook his head again and gripped the blankets around him. "Part of me just...grieved for Howard. I wanted to make sure that you didn't go the same way." He looked at Tony. "I just want to help you, Tony. I want to be there for you, in every way, always."

 

He put his hand close to the reactor--not on top of it, not yet, even a simple touch, without warning, would probably frighten Tony--and smiled.

 

"And that includes this," he whispered reverently, "this beautiful, wondrous little machine. I don't think it makes you ugly, Tony. All I care about is that it kept you alive."

 

When Steve looked into Tony's eyes then, he had been expecting love, affection, relief--anything. The thing he hadn't quite yet understood about Tony, however, was this; with Tony, his ear had three parts. There was the ear that caught the sound, and the eardrum that relayed the message to his mind. And in between those two was a wall of his own mental issues--everything he had repressed and let fester--that only let tatters of meaning slip through and reach Tony, often twisted beyond recognition.

 

When Steve promised to protect him, all Tony saw then was a man that thought he was his father. And if it had been anyone else in the world other than Steve, he would have screamed and raged and cursed, telling them how idiotic they were before storming off. But with Steve, he just grieved quietly at the supposed truth that Captain America would never love him.

 

"Do you want to know why my father had me?" Tony murmured, his voice soft and cold, like a winter wind that chilled to the bone. "I'm sure you think it strange that Howard Stark, the genius playboy, actually bothered to have a son. Surely the contradiction has crossed your mind."

 

"A little." Steve confessed. "But I was just grateful, in the end, that you were here."

 

Tony didn't hear it. All he heard was the echo chamber of his own self-loathing repeating a steady drumbeat back to him; all Steve wanted was Howard. All Tony was to Steve was his father's replacement.

 

"Dad married mom and had a kid so you would have someone around to talk to." Tony told him. "That's it. That's the only reason. Dad was a drunk asshole at this point and little else, and he knew what he'd become. He knew he was gonna die before he dragged his sorry ass out to see you again, and I--I was--" Tony choked for a second, trying not to cry.

 

"I was just the replacement," he whispered, "I was only ever born because all dad wanted was to be with you." Tony glared at him. "And--and that's all _you_ want, isn't it? Protecting me because you feel bad for _dad_? What the _fuck,_ , Steve? I--I thought--"

 

"What? What, Tony, no--no, that isn't what it is at all--" Steve stopped and put a gentle hand on Tony's shoulder. "Please calm down, Tony. You're tired. You're not thinking straight..."

 

"You just want me around 'cause _you miss dad_!" Tony shouted. The words hung in the air, sharp and harsh. Steve looked like he had been punched.

 

"That's all _anyone_ ever wants from me! They just want me to be Howard--they want me t-to sleep around and to d-drink a-and fuck up, 'cause everyone thinks it's fucking funny--they're all laughing at me, they think I'm just--just a fucking failure, and they _want_ that, they want to see me _suffer_ , 'cause they think I'm dad, and--I hate my dad so much, and--he took _so much_ from me, and...and _he can't have you_!" Tony screamed.

 

Steve was completely silent, watching Tony intently. His heart was pounding in his chest. Tony continued on, unheeding, unseeing through the veil of tears that had obscured his sight.

 

"You're mine! You're something _good_! You're something _safe_! I get to have you this time! He's _gone_! He's _dead_! He _can't_ take you from me! You're _mine_! Not his, not _ever_! Don't you _get that_?!" Tony demanded, turning to him. "You're _mine!_ "

 

"Yes, Tony," Steve said quietly, "I'm yours. By my choice."

 

Tony stopped in his shouting, as if he hadn't been expecting that. Steve suspected he hadn't--that hurt, truth be told.

 

"But...but you said..." He whispered, his voice soft and timid now, almost fearful. Steve shook his head.

 

"Tony, all I said was that I wish I'd been there for Howard. Part of me felt guilty, for a little while, that I hadn't been there to help him, but in the end--I'm here for _you_ , right now, and that's all that matters to me." Steve said gently. "What I said was that I didn't want to lose you, and that's why I think the arc reactor is so great. All that matters to me about it is that it kept you alive. I don't think it's ugly at all."

 

Tony stared at him.

 

In one harsh, sharp jerk, Tony forced himself out of the covers and made to leave the room, scrabbling off the bed. Steve let his shock get the better of him long enough to let Tony slip off the bed, but his reflexes reacted in time to grab Tony before he reached the door.

 

"Tony? Please tell me what's wrong!" Steve asked. "You need to lay down, you're obviously stressed and tired, and that isn't _good_ for you--"

 

"Just let me go!" Tony yelled. "Just tell me you hate me and throw me out, dammit!"

 

"...What?" Steve said. He was smart enough to not let go despite his sudden bewilderment. Tony would bolt, more likely than not.

 

"Tony, no. I could never hate you." He shook his head. This was...risky, but...maybe it would get him to calm down.

 

"And I don't want you to leave. In fact, if it would get you to sleep, I'd rather you sleep in here with me for the whole night, you know that?" He said.

 

Tony paused. He looked ill, terrified and about to cry. Steve steeled himself; he knew Tony would have already, at some point in his mind, warped this to mean something miserable or hateful, and he needed to prepare to counter that.

 

"...I yelled at you." Tony whispered. "I got angry. I...I was a stupid jerk. Why...why aren't you angry at me?" He looked at Steve, his eyes tear-bright as his hands shook. "Don't you hate me? Don't you want me to leave?"

 

"Tony, I _understand_." Steve said gently.

 

Tony looked like that was an utterly alien concept to him. Steve wished more than anything in that moment that he could have been there throughout _all_ of Tony's life, not just now, where Tony was already so hurt and broken. He wanted to have been able to stop anything from getting broken in the first place.

 

But, he could not, and so he just held Tony in his arms instead.

 

Steve pulled Tony close and held him tight, ignoring the soft gasp of shock and settling Tony against his chest. He was more aware than ever that Tony was so much smaller than him--shorter, slighter, so much more fragile. Touching him then set Steve's heart ablaze with the desire to defend and protect. His arms encircled Tony's waist almost on instinct as he met Tony's eyes and continued on.

 

"You were frightened. I understand Howard was not a good man to you...and as much as that makes me frustrated and sad and guilty, I also know that means you're worried you'll be compared to him. It's okay. You had a reason to get angry and scared, and I forgive you, completely."

 

"But...I..." Tony was cut off as Steve began to pull him back onto the bed.

 

"All you need to know right now is that I don't think you're your father at all. You are brave and clever and kind, and the greatest man I have ever met, past or present." Steve whispered. "Howard was a good man. But he was not a great man. Not like you. No one could ever be quite like you, Tony."

 

He had managed to get him onto the bed now, and underneath the first set of covers. As he continued to talk, Steve kept puting blankets on top of Tony, settling him in for the night.

 

"Yes, Tony." Steve promised. "I'm yours. Not Howard's. I'm not here because of him. Not anymore. For a little while...I was worried about him, and my guilt about not being there...it overtook me, but that was only the truth right up until I realized that Howard...and, and Bucky...are dead and gone." Steve whispered. "I can't help them anymore." He closed his eyes.

 

"But I can help you. And the second--the second I held your heart in my hands, I knew. I'm here for you, Tony. Only you." Steve promised, wrapping the last blanket around him as he sat down on the bed beside Tony and laid his hand over the arc reactor. Tony didn't even so much as flinch, he was so utterly comforted by Steve's presence.

 

"I am yours." Steve promised. "And the past isn't going to take me away from you. Nor the future. I promise."

 

Tony was quiet, letting Steve run his hands gently over the arc reactor, carressing and stroking. He sighed.

 

"Sorry I yelled at you," Tony whispered, "I didn't mean it."

 

"I know, Tony." Steve murmured. "Please go to sleep, okay? I'll stay with you until you fall asleep. I promise."

 

"Okay." Tony promised. "You don't mind I'm in your bed?"

 

"No, I don't." Steve murmured. "If it gets you to sleep, y'know?"

 

Tony laughed softly and shook his head.

 

"This is the first time I've been in someone else's bed in a really long time, Steve." He murmured. "M'glad it's yours. Always was...in my dreams..."

 

Tony fell asleep before he could finish his sentence, breathing softly against the silk sheets, utterly relaxed and at ease.

 

Steve sat with him for another ten minutes, stroking his hair and making sure Tony was truly asleep.

 

Then, with a soft, gentle smile, he adjusted the blankets up around Tony and left the room as quietly as he could, going across the hall and collapsing onto Tony's bed in exhausted relief. After all, it wasn't as if he could sleep in his own room--Tony was in his bed, and it was improper to sleep together until they were married.

 

Steve was a gentleman, after all.

 


	32. To Sing, Perchance to Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Steve plan a totally-not-a-date-what-are-you-talking-about. Thor Dreams. Loki sings. There is pain and loss and hope and sharing a bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty evenly divided between Tony and Steve and Thor and Loki. I really haven't elucidated on Loki as of late, and I apologize for that, because he becomes important to the plot later...but I'm honestly a little nervous that my interpretation of him is going to fall flat. For people who are unimpressed so far; please, just hang on until later in. I do my best to be realistic in his interactions with Thor...but I know the vitriol against Draco in Leather Pantsing Loki is...well, pretty nasty, and deservedly so. I know it's ridiculous, and that's why I'm promising you now; he's not going to be glossed over, he's not going to be made out as just misunderstood, and he most certainly isn't a good guy. Chaotic Neutral at best.   
> There. Now, with that out of the way; yes, motorcycles! I love that Steve loves motorcycles. He really is just the dorkiest little bad boy ever. Leather jackets and motorcycles and a smile that brings puppies to life. Jesus.  
> And Tony being Tony and Thor having feels and Loki getting beaten with the misery stick. Ohoho. I hope you enjoy.

Tony awoke the next day, and for a second, he was unsure as to where he was. He knew that sounded ridiculous, but everything around him was foreign, complicated, _strange_. Monstrous, even--demented and nightmarish, and not just because he was trying to think pre-coffee. 

  


...And why in the hell was his room suddenly blue? 

  


Tony sat up in bed and looked around. Truth be told, it appeared that there was a good reason as to why his room was blue--it wasn't his room. It was Steve's. 

  


...Then why was he in Steve's room? 

  


A little thrill of excitement sent a shiver down his spine before he recalled just exactly what had happened last night. It hadn't exactly been the life-defining romantic confession he had been dreaming of, that was for sure... 

  


As Tony looked over to the bed beside him, his heart lanced with disappoinment and self-loathing. Of course it hadn't been. It wasn't like he was good enough to even sleep beside Steve, anyway. The other man must've gone and slept downstairs to get away from him. Tony couldn't blame him. Steve was really too good to be in his bed... 

  


Tony shuddered and shook his head, getting up out of the bed with a little more than a hint of reluctance--after all, it was Steve's bed, and probably the last time he would ever be allowed in it. He wanted to appreciate the feel of where he slept for just a little longer, just to be a little closer to Steve in some way. 

  


Eventually, though, he knew full well he had to wake up and face the world, and so he did, though he did grumble about it as he went into his room. 

  


Once Tony made his way into his bedroom and shut the door, turning around to look at the room in front of him, his heart stopped, if only for an instant. 

  


Nestled in the depths of soft down comforters in a multitude of crimson shades lay Steve, completely asleep and peaceful, his breathing slow and soft. His smooth porcelain skin appeared to practically glow against the stark blood-red of the silk sheets, and his hair fell across his forehead, evidently still waiting for the morning angel that styled his hair before he woke up. 

  


Tony swallowed, his throat dry. There were a million and one reasons Steve could be in his bed right now. He didn't care about a single one of them. 

  


Perhaps this was cheating, almost, in whatever kind of game they were playing together. Maybe he was going too fast, too far. Or maybe he was playing the wrong kind of game entirely. 

  


It didn't matter. In the end, hell--it was his bed. Technically, he had first rights to it. 

  


Tony smirked at the technical victory he had awarded himself within his own mind, settling the case for himself rather quickly. 

  


Without another thought on the subject, he crawled into bed and fell asleep right beside Steve, his head situated snugly on the feather pillows and his whole body wrapped up nicely in the down comforters. It was, after all, only nine-thirty; by all rights, he shouldn't even be awake. It would be nice to fall back asleep beside Steve...even if only for this one time. 

  


...

Steve awoke an hour and a half later to the sounds of someone's heart beating next to him. 

  


He smiled, pleased. It was a rhythmic, comforting sound, and one of the best things about his enhanced hearing--he could hear the heartbeats of anyone close enough to him. This one was...strong. Irregular, but strong. 

  


Steve blinked. Wait. Irregular... 

  


"Tony?" He mumbled. "Didn't I put you to bed?" 

  


A soft, sleepy laugh reached his ears, and Steve rolled over to see Tony in bed beside him, looking more content and peaceful than Steve had ever seen him in his entire life. He looked truly happy where he was, and it made Steve tremble with the urge to cuddle him close and keep him there forever, so he could always be happy. 

  


"You did," Tony promised, "and I did sleep. But I woke up a little while ago and was a little confused as to why I was in your bed. Then I came in here." He explained. "...So..." 

  


"I'm sorry I'm in your bed, Tony!" Steve confessed, and he looked so apologetic that Tony couldn't help but want to smile. "I just--I didn't mean to, but, uh, you were so content in my room, and I didn't want to wake you up, but I was tired, and--your room was very close, and I knew where the bed was, and, uh, I know it's your personal space and I'm very sorry I intruded, I just--" 

  


"Why didn't you just stay in your bed with me?" Tony asked. 

  


Steve tensed for a second. He recognized that undertone to Tony's voice already. It meant Tony was having a "comprehension block" again--whatever Steve told him now was going to be filtered through the wall Tony had built around himself, and that wall was made up entirely of self-loathing and low personal esteem, so he doubted it would end well in any way at all. 

  


"Well, Tony," Steve began, trying to keep his voice both gentle and neutral, "I did not think it wise or polite to try to hog the bed. After all, it's not a bed built for two people, in all truth, and I didn't want to end up taking the covers or hogging the pillows." He said. "I thought you deserved your privacy." 

  


Tony stared at him for a second, and Steve knew his thoughts were turning that over and over, twisting it into something that, if repeated back to him, Steve probably wouldn't recognize. 

  


"...So you just wanted me to sleep okay?" Tony ventured timidly. Steve nodded. 

  


"Yes, Tony," he told him, "it was late, and you were very tired. I wanted you to get a good night's sleep without having to worry about me taking up more space than I should." 

  


Tony nodded vaguely, like he was only half-listening. Steve was worried, but he didn't push the matter too much. It was still early, and truth be told, he wasn't sure if he had the mental capacity to do it without sparking an argument. 

  


"Okay." Tony finally murmured, making Steve fight not to outright sigh with relief. "So, do we have any plans for today?" 

  


"Well, we only have three days left of our vacation, and I know everyone's going home to catch up on sleep or private time..." Steve hummed quietly. "Perhaps we could just work in the lab today for a little while. You and I, together. I'd love to take a look at your motorcycles..." 

  


He couldn't help the note of interest that had crept into his voice, and Tony smiled, amused. 

  


"So, you like motorbikes?" He teased. "We'll go riding today, maybe, if we've got time. I'd like to see how you drive one, Cap." 

  


"Very well," Steve promised, "and very safely." 

  


"Oh, you're no fun." Tony muttered, but there was still a smile on his face, and he let Steve help him out of bed before he left for his room to get dressed, leaving Tony alone but excited about the day's prospects. 

  
...

Despite his exuberance at his shieldbrothers' delight and current happiness, Thor was not as particularly excited about the day's events as they were. 

  


He did not tell the others about what had transpired, for fear of confusion or worse, involvement, but... 

  


He had dreamed that night. 

  


Thor Odinson was not a stupid man. He was a man of war and might, and those fields required skill and strength to master. He had been versed in the ways of Asgard and its magics, same as his brother--surely, they had called to his fair Loki, sung their dark secrets to him in a way that they did not for himself, but he knew full well of the portents and prophecies that a god could have. 

  


He knew, as well, that there were dreams, and then there were dreams. Those were the ones discussed with wise crones and inflections, as if to allow them a capital letter of importance. 

  


Thor had Dreamed. And he had Dreamed of Loki. 

  


It was not a dream of brotherhood, or a remembrance of times of peace, or love between the two. It was a dream fraught with worry and latticed along the end with delicate patterns of frost, as if he was viewing it through a blizzard. It confused him, but those sort of dreams never were very clear. They dealt in symbolism Thor did not understand; they sang songs and he was moved by the music, but understood not a word. 

  


There was pain there. Hunting pain. Caught-in-a-trap pain. And through it all, his brother, with skin like the finest sapphires and eyes like the fresh blood of the first kill of the hunt. It was another form of symbolism, perhaps. To Thor, it did not matter. The pain mattered. Thor knew pain--it was as kin to him as Loki, and he had fought just as many battles with pain alongside him as his warriors three and his lady Sif; pain was something Thor knew intimately, and that, above else, was what he had culled from the dream. 

  


Loki was in pain. He did not know where. He did not know why. But he was in pain. 

  


Thor sighed, sitting on the hill in the park, appreciating the earth around him and beneath him for a little while. He had not wanted to go back to S.H.I.E.L.D. that day; there was something broken and raw within its pristine halls that could hide and sheathe so much, and he disliked it. One honest blow of a hammer and he could send it all crumbling down... 

  


Regardless, he had other things to think of. Pain was not the only thing that he had brought out of the wisps of the dream; there had been need there, desperate desire, and so much fear. Thor did not know quite why...but he did know that powerful mages could communicate through dreams and portents, and that meant... 

  


He shook his head. It did not mean that--it could not mean that. Loki was no longer as enamored with him as he had been. He would have followed his brother to the ends of Asgard and beyond, but he knew now that Loki did not feel the same. 

  


It could not be a message from Loki. It was a trick and no more--another trick, another deceit, another _lie_. More mischief. 

  


He had lost hope that it could be anything else, in all truth. 

  


Thor did not cry. He was a king and a god. 

  


But there was a child in him, a fair-haired boy with a talent for battle and a small, slight brother who spoke to the magic of the world and let it speak through him, and this boy, who had loved the smaller, slighter boy more than anything, his love as fierce and forceful as lightning, that boy shed a tear or two, left somewhere deep in the labyrinth of memory and lost to the annals of time. 

  
...

Within the pristine walls of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters that could hide so much from even the mightiest of hammers and the fists of gods, Loki began to sing. 

  


It was not a song that a maiden or youth would sing, in praise of the world around them. It was an endurance song. It was a war song, and there was no beauty in it--merely strength and an overwhelming will to soldier forward, expressed through rough, harsh, guttural gasps that the agents who experimented upon him mistook for screaming. 

  


He cared not if they thought they had made him scream. This was a song for himself and himself alone, and it would provide only him with strength and solace. It would not be much, but it would get him through another day of torment, until, perhaps, time would be kind to him and Thor would return.

  


He had sung another kind of song that night. That one, at least, had been soft and sweet, like the frost shining in the light of the sun, glittering like a gaze full of love. It had been a song meant for another; meant to reach out past the walls around him and through the roots of Midgard, passing through them until it found its way into the mind of Thor and left its message there. 

  


The soft and sweet song had carried pain with it, but it begrudged the pain not, carrying it on its strong back, reinforced by desire and hope. Loki had sung until he had wept from the pain of a raw, bloodied throat. No one had come to comfort him. 

  


In a haze of pain he had once thought his mother had been standing at the door of his prison, inumerable realms of sadness reflected back in her eyes, but that too had been just a dream, and Loki had not had the energy to sing it back to him, so he could keep it safe in his mind, where it belonged. 

  


Time passed; it had to be morning, for the agents had begun to arrive, with their tests and their tools and their crippling devices. Loki let them work on him, analyze him as if he were a machine or a corpse to be examined, because hope--that strange and mighty creature that had gotten him here in the first place--had filled his heart. 

  


Thor had to have received the dream. He had to have known. And he would arrive. 

  


Time passed. 

  


Thor did not come. 

  


As they cut into his body and took samples of the dark, sluggish blood that oozed from his sapphire skin, Loki tilted his head back and began to sing. 

  


It was a song of loss and grief, and there were no urges to hold on or soldier through in it. All that was within the song was a single guttural note, low and so raw as to cause physical pain within him. 

  


It was not enough. Only the feel of his brother's arms holding him, lifting him out of his prison and taking him far away would have been. 

  


But it was something, and Loki sang until his voice cracked and his throat screamed for him to stop. They would know of his grief. They would hear it. 

  


And, in some secret, dark corner of his heart, he prayed Thor would hear it, too. 

  



	33. American Flag Cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony really does not like being shown up by his father. For whatever reason. Steve finally gets to discuss the future with Tony. Motorcycles are involved because this is a story about manly, manly men, obviously. Clint is also pretty sarcastic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Tony's daddy issues are actually almost funny to write sometimes. I mean, yes, they're legitimate and understandable, but sometimes he just gets so petty that it's really...borderline hilarious. He really just will not let Howard have anything good in Steve's eyes.  
> So I've been meaning to bring up THE FUTURE for awhile now. Because while Steve has adjusted, sure...it's confusing. And I'm sure it's not easy, and I mean...I don't want to bring too much angst into it, because Steve can and has adjusted, though he doesn't...really realize he has. Because it isn't about the iPods or the color televisions or anything anymore; it's about the fact that he's found a new family for himself, and he isn't alone. Steve can survive the future so long as he isn't alone--which is a fact I don't think even he himself realizes sometimes.  
> So there's my excuse as to why Steve's future feels aren't a multi-chapter epic, yeah.  
> Also, for those of you that didn't notice: I finally put up the Clint/Natasha/Coulson fic! It's called A Man and His Toy Soldiers, and I recommend reading it, if only because it will end up explaining a lot of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s fuckery and the reason the agents are the way they are.

Far beyond the machinations of S.H.I.E.L.D., for a small while, at least, Steve and Tony sat in the garage, at peace and safe. It would not last. But for the moment, while it existed, they would enjoy it.

"So, I'm thinking we'll make sure this one's all tuned up and then head out." Tony said, tapping the chrome workings of the motorcycle. "It's the closest to what you're used to, model-wise, so I figured we could ride this one."

"Sounds fine by me..." Steve murmured, examining the motorcycle closely, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he looked at the bike. "It looks all right, but there's something up with the handbrake--looks like it's jammed..."

Tony raised an eyebrow as he checked it, readjusting a few screws quickly and re-aligning a spring.

"Huh. You were right." He said. "I didn't think you were so good with machines."

"Just motorcycles," Steve confessed, "I mean, I had my own, and I wanted to take good care of it." He shrugged. "I don't know what happened to it, though. I hope Dugan took it and kept it. He loved that thing."

"I hope so too." Tony shook his head and stood up, grabbing two helmets off the workbench and tossing one to Steve. "It was an amazing motorcycle for its time. It deserved a good run."

"Well, it should've been good." Steve said cheerfully, putting his helmet on. "Howard designed it!"

Tony's eye twitched. So, dad thought he could show him up, could he...

Steve didn't notice Tony's grumbles as he got onto the motorcycle. He looked so natural and relaxed on it that Tony couldn't help but smile, entranced by Steve on the bike. It seemed to meld with him, communing with him by way of steel and engine. It was beautiful.

Steve adjusted his leather jacket, checked his helmet, and looked at Tony before shooting him a quick grin.

"Well?" He offered, holding out his hand. Tony swallowed.

It was just like he had always fantasized, of course; Captain America, clad in smooth leather and a smile, holding out his hand to him as they rode away together on his magnificent bike, to someplace where there were no drunken fathers or neglectful families--someplace safe, with Steve.

He could take his hand right now and make that a reality.

It took more strength than Steve ever knew, but Tony grabbed his hand then, getting onto the bike and holding Steve so tight he trembled as the motorbike started up and Steve sent them roaring out of the garage and down the driveway, under the light of high noon.

For awhile, longer than either of them bothered to keep track of, they drove across the length and breadth of New York City, Tony leaning against the strong, firm expanse of Steve's back, his hands around his waist as he leaned his head against Steve's shoulder and inhaled softly, his eyes-half closed as they roared throughout the city.

Steve looked curious as he swung them around corners and took them through back streets and the fringes of the city. It was then Tony realized he had an ulterior motive for taking this trip; Steve wanted to see what the whole city had become in his absence.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Tony called out over the low, powerful thrum of the engine. Steve nodded, a small smile crossing his face.

"It's like nothing I could have ever dreamed of," he admitted, "but it's better than I ever believed it could be, I think. And that makes me so happy."

"I'm glad." Tony murmured. "I just want you to be happy."

Steve braked and came to a stop; with one swift swivel of his hips, he was leaning against the handlebars and Tony fell, at a sudden loss with the lack of Steve's back to lean on, and so he fell right into his arms, his eyes wide as he looked up at Steve. His eyes sparkled, and there was something beautiful in them Tony had no name for.

"I could say the same thing, Tony." Steve said gently. "Honestly, I think, after all this, you...you were what really made me the happiest about being here." He confessed. "If you're here, then I think I'm okay with the future. Because...it's you, right?"

"Yeah." Tony said, his throat suddenly dry. "I guess it is, isn't it."

"It'll be a good future, then." Steve announced. "But the present's really nice too, wouldn't you agree?" He pointed out over the harbor where they had stopped at and towards the river. "I mean, this is a beautiful view. We could just enjoy this now."

"I'd be okay with that." Tony agreed. "The present's not so bad, Steve." He shook his head. "I just...I guess I was worried you wouldn't want to stay in it."

Steve laughed quietly and tilted his head back as a sudden breeze skirted around them both. A seagull floated on the gust above them, peaceful and serene before it dove for the churning waters.

"I guess that's a fair thing to worry about," Steve agreed,"and to tell you the truth...I didn't want to stay in the present either. I knew there was no way for me to go home, but I just...didn't want to be here. It felt like...felt like I wasn't needed anymore." Steve shook his head as Tony grabbed his hand.

"Don't ever say that." Tony demanded, unable to keep the fierce tone out of his voice as he gave Steve a sharp look. "Don't _ever_ say you're not needed. You're _Captain America._ The world _always_ needed you, Cap. It was waiting for _you_ , all this time..."

"So were you." Steve whispered.

Tony inhaled sharply, suddenly, like he had been punched.

"I...I was..." Tony confessed. "That's what dad raised me to do. Wait for you." He swallowed. "I...I'm sorry. But you have to know you're needed."

"I _know_ that, but it sure doesn't _feel_ like it, you know?" Steve told him. "I mean, you know how you can be told something over and over, and just...never really feel it? There's never that spark in your chest that comes with understanding, I mean."

"I know." Tony said, and there was sadness in his voice, alienation and desperation, and Steve could hear it--he closed his eyes in respect for the pain Tony had felt and shook his head.

"I thought you might," Steve said gravely, "which is another story entirely..." He sighed. "The truth is, Tony, I don't feel like I belong. I'm a relic; an anachronism of a time that people have romanticized and made something it wasn't...like it was viewed through rosy shades of black and white or something." He shook his head again and bit his lip.

"I was a soldier. I was the best soldier there ever was. But then there's people like you--brilliant, grand, glorious people who can make suits of armor that could tear me to shreds in a second if they wanted, and...well, I feel a little outgunned." Steve confessed. "Why am I still here? If I was supposed to be on the Avengers, then why don't I feel like I'm doing any of this right?" He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Tony. I don't think I'm making a lot of sense right now." He sighed. "What I meant to say was that--well, I'm a soldier. But do we even really _need_ any of those anymore?"

"Dunno." Tony murmured. "Doesn't _matter_. It's _you_ that matters. You're a good man, Steve." He swallowed. "The greatest man I have ever known. And we could always use a few more of those. No matter what time we're in."

Steve's face brightened up so fast it almost hurt to look at him. He smiled and held Tony steady on the seat of the motorcycle, shaking his head and grinning with delight.

"I love how smart you are," Steve told him, and the praise in his tone was so evident that not even Tony could ignore it, "you make this all sound so easy and simple... I think that's amazing."

"I...huh." Tony mumbled. The truth was that if he was surrounded by a wall of self-hatred, insecurity, loathing, and loneliness, Steve was a tidal wave, repetitive and powerful, endless in its fight to wear down the strongest stone and burst through to fill what had been empty for the longest time.

The wall had not been torn down yet. But there were cracks in the stone.

So Tony smiled and nodded.

"Thanks, Steve." He said. "Glad I made you feel better. I think I owed you one there."

The two of them laid there in silence on the motorbike for awhile; Steve spread out over the front of the seat, lying back so that his back rested against the padding on the handlebars. Tony sat like he had been before, but his chest had fallen against Steve's, the reactor pulsing warmly between them, and neither of them had made to move.

"Hey, Steve?" Tony finally asked. "So, now I'm curious. What's your final verdict on the future?"

Steve was quiet. For awhile, he watched the seagulls fly above them.

Then he looked into Tony's eyes and smiled.

"Any time I get to spend with you is the only time I want to be in." Steve murmured. "And if that means I'm forever stuck in the future, so be it. I welcome it."

Tony didn't say anything. But he let Steve get closer, his hand over the reactor, rubbing his thumb over the bright blue surface and humming tunelessly as he touched it.

Before they got back on the motorbike properly to head home, Steve took Tony's hand. It was only for a minute, and he did it, in theory, to guide Tony onto the bike and back into the position he had been in properly, but the touch was caring and careful, and for the rest of the ride home, Tony held close to Steve and smiled into his skin, his breath soft on Steve's shoulder as he laughed, delighted, to let Steve know that any time spent with him was the best time of his life.

  
...

 

Tony always enjoyed working in his lab. That was a given. It was what he did--it was his life, his work, what made him worth anything as a human being.

So it was no surprise to anyone except Steve that he disappeared down there before dinner, but evidently, Steve had not gotten that memo, because Tony could hear someone typing in the access code. He sighed and put down his wrench. He would have to explain something before the surprise was totally ruined.

"Steve!" Tony called. "Just wait a minute! What's the problem?"

"You have to eat dinner!" Steve snapped. "We brought home dinner, and you--you're _not allowed_ to not eat, okay? Not anymore!"

Tony hid a smile in the sleeve of his shirt despite being alone. He couldn't help but laugh, just a little, either, before he called back, "I'll be up in a minute. Could you give me a second to shut down my systems?"

There was a pause from behind the door.

Steve sighed, sounding _almost_  petulant, and _definitely_  adorable.

"Fine," he mumbled, "but I'm waiting here until you come out."

"All right, all right," Tony said, gesturing to JARVIS to close the blueprints and drop a tarp over the motorcycle, "I'll be right out, I'm sorry, I didn't know dinner was here."

"It's all right." Steve said, sighing in relief as Tony opened the door to meet him. "I didn't expect you to, but I didn't want you to miss it."

"You're really serious about this whole "making me eat" thing, aren't you?" Tony teased. Steve grit his teeth.

"Of course." He said stiffly. Tony raised an eyebrow. Steve sounded...serious. Almost agitated. Tony wasn't quite sure why, but then again, he wasn't sure why Steve bothered to care so much anyway.

"Tony, your health is really important to me," Steve said gently, and Tony couldn't help but sigh, having heard the same lecture from Pepper and Rhodey and Happy and JARVIS about ten thousand times, "I know you love your work, and I do too, but you can't work without any energy." He sighed. "I know you want to stay in the lab sometimes, but maybe I could bring you something to eat, then? Does that sound fair?"

_Well, it sounds more like you're playing to all my most illicit fantasies of you as my housewife from when I was in eighth grade, but, y'know, whatever makes you happy, Steve._  Tony remarked privately.

"Sure." He said out loud. "I didn't think you really liked cooking."

"It's kind of fun." Steve told him. "Maybe I could show you how?"

"I know how to cook, Steve." Tony said, amused. "I just don't do it often."

"Well, maybe we could do it a little more." Steve said primly, a bit of a blush coloring his cheeks at being corrected. "Together."

"That'd be okay, yeah." Tony agreed, trying not to show the utter delight that idea gave him across his face. "Who brought what home for dinner?"

"Clint found a place that makes sandwiches and got sandwiches for us!" Steve said. "It's really nice. He said he got me American cheese arranged like a flag." Steve tilted his head. "Clint...is very sarcastic, sometimes, I think."

"No, really? I never would've guessed." Tony said. Steve nodded.

"I know! Honestly, neither would I--he seems like a very straightforward kind of guy, but he's got a very sharp tongue and a quick wit, and it's nice and all, but I wasn't expecting it, especially since Natasha and Phil are so serious, and...y'know." Steve explained.

Tony decided to humor him.

"Let's go get dinner, Steve." He said, putting his hand on his shoulder. "And hey, why don't you go out to get dessert with everyone afterwards? Surprise me."

"Are you sure?" Steve asked, his tone betraying his anxiousness. "I don't want to leave you alone..."

"It's fine, Steve," Tony promised, "I've got something special going in the lab. I'll be working on that, so don't worry about me."

"All right..." Steve said, but he still looked hesitant. "I guess I'll bring you home something nice too, though. Just in case."

"That'd be lovely." Tony agreed, opening the door to the kitchen and leading him into the dining room. "Thanks, Steve."

"It's always my pleasure, Tony." Steve reminded him. "I take care of you, you know that."

"Well, yeah," Tony murmured softly, so soft only Steve could hear him, "but it's always nice having a reminder."

Steve held his hand for just a second and smiled before they sat down across from each other and talked like no one else in the room existed.

Everyone else who was currently existing in the room, evidently unbeknownst to Steve and Tony, gave each other a very smug look.

  
...

 

The group left to go get dessert about a half hour later. With that, Tony bolted back down into the lab, looking down at what he had finished. If he worked hard--pushed himself for four hours or so and got the robots to help...he might have this finished before Steve came down to drag him upstairs to bed.

Tony grinned and adjusted his goggles, yanking the tarp off and calling for JARVIS. He had work to do.

 


	34. Manly Motorcycles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A feast is planned. Tony has daddy issues. Clint is going to go into a diabetic coma with all these shenanigans. Also, manly men playing with manly motorcycles made of manly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm dicking around with the formatting a little to try to find a style that fits; the other one was really spacey but I'm afraid this one is too close together and oh dear. So let me know if you like it, okay?  
> Yes, Tony is the king of daddy issues and oh Steve you are just so understanding how do you do what you do honey  
> Seriously god damn, I don't even know how Steve does it; Tony is just...Tony. Tony oh my glob. What are you even doing, Jegus. This is ridiculous. They're all ridiculous. Mind you, that's kind of how 95% my romance is written; "Oh my god they're so dumb so dumb stupid stupid dumb get out so stupid KISS JESUS"  
> Seriously, it's chapter what, 34? They haven't even hooked up yet! I feel like I should extend a formal apology! I'm sorry I am a big fat bonerkill, okay?! Oh man.  
> (For those of you who care, it's six more chapters until they do. And...uh, hopefully it's worth the wait? But I mean, Christ, I have the most patient readers on the planet. I love you all.)  
> Anyways, so here you go; ugly Tony feels, Steve is the best, Thor has sads, Clint whines and is adorable.  
> Also let me know how the formatting change worked~

Steve hummed quietly to himself, sitting on the bench and watching everyone else eat their ice cream on the patio outside the parlor. It was starting to get chilly at night, but he was fine; the leather jacket Tony had given him was warm and supple against his skin. Steve closed his eyes and smiled. He would have to thank Tony for the gifts again...he wasn't used to being warm on cold nights.

His friends--his team, his Avengers--sat beside him, relaxed. Everyone looked completely at ease and peaceful, eyes half-lidded as they lazily nibbled at their ice cream, breathing soft and slow.

Coulson had ended up with Clint sprawled out on the bench beside him, legs stretched out and his back snuggled up comfortably against Coulson's shoulder. Natasha sat beside Coulson, demure and a little distant, to the untrained eye, but Steve could see her hand on his thigh and her smaller frame leaning into his, just a little.

Pepper and Bruce sat at a table by themselves, discussing something quietly. Bruce had a book in his hands and he was gesturing to passages within, as if trying to prove a point; Pepper looked interested and a little amused, her cheeks tinted just slightly pink as she watched his hands move. Steve hummed, pleased.

It was Thor he was a little worried about, though. He was the only one who didn't seem at ease--not entirely. There was something in his bearing that spoke of nervousness and pain, and Steve worried.

"Thor," he called out quietly, "do you need to talk?"

Thor relaxed visibly at the sound of his voice. He shifted in his seat and nodded as Steve got up and sat down beside him.

"Aye." He said, his voice low and rough. "I am...concered, shieldbrother. Perhaps you could help."

"I think I could help a little." Steve agreed. "What's the problem?"

"We are to return to S.H.I.E.L.D. the day after tomorrow, yes?" Thor asked. Steve nodded.

"Mhm. We go back into the field then." He said. "Is something wrong? I thought you enjoyed battle."

"I do, but that is not my concern..." Thor exhaled softly and sighed. "I had a Dream last night."

There was an inflection in how he said it, and Steve couldn't help but hear it with capital letters in his head. He raised an eyebrow.

"Dream?" He asked. Thor nodded, evidently more well-versed in this than Steve was.

"Among my people, particularly talented sorcerers can send messages through Dreams and other such portents..." Thor sighed. "I received one of those such messages last night. I believe...I believe it was from my brother." He shook his head. "But I do not know why he would send me a message. He considers me his enemy now. That much is certain."

"No, I'm sure he doesn't." Steve said gently. "You're his brother. He's angry and desperate and lost and incredibly dangerous...but he's still your Loki, and you know that." He sighed. "But that isn't important right now--the real problem is why he sent you, of all people, a message..."

"He wanted me to save him." Thor said. "There was pain in the dream. Hurting pain--caught-in-a-trap pain, and--my brother was singing." He shook his head. "It was a grieving song. I have heard it before, on the lips of others--dying warriors and their widows. He needed me." Thor shuddered. "I..I abandoned him. I thought it a trap. But...nothing has come of it, and so...my convictions are wavering, shieldbrother."

"Where was he, Thor?" Steve asked, tilting his head, concerned. Thor grimaced and leaned back on the bench, putting his hand over his temples and sighing.

"There lies the problem, Steve." He said. "Loki was within S.H.I.E.L.D.'s grasp. And in truth, I have felt...unsettled, so to speak, about the headquarters as of this morn. I do not know why, but if they have my brother, and he is calling to me...that would explain the situation I find myself in." He looked at Steve, and his eyes, the rich blue of a sky illuminated by lightning, were shining with the faintest hint of sorrow.

"Shieldbrother, I ask you this, for you know more of the heart than any man I have ever been lucky enough to know..." Thor closed his eyes. "Am I flawed for worrying for him? I know he is the enemy of the Avengers...but he is my brother. I miss him. I...I feel...guilty, almost."

"It's all right." Steve murmured gently. "Loki made his choices, and you shouldn't feel guilty about how he ended up. Your focus should be on saving him, if you think he can be saved. He doesn't have to be our enemy, Thor. He can still be your brother. He always was." Steve told him. "And that is why you're so worried...it's perfectly understandable in that context, you know?" He put a hand on Thor's shoulder.

"You're not wrong for worrying. Don't let that worry make you choose a bad path or make a flawed decision, but let it weigh your argument and temper your decisions, and you'll be all right." Steve promised. "And for what it's worth--when we go back, Fury did say you could speak with him. If he's there, then you could talk to him, maybe..."

"Aye, I could," Thor groaned, "but the truth is, Loki's tongue is half the reason we've ever had problems in the first place."

From near them, Clint suddenly burst out into giggles. Steve wasn't exactly sure why, but Coulson was rolling his eyes and Natasha was hiding a smile in her sleeve.

"At any rate..." Coulson finally spoke up, his voice quiet, "we're going back to work soon. Does anyone have any plans for tomorrow they would like to enact?"

"A feast!" Thor piped up, all his pain gone, replaced by the balm of his shieldbrother's words.

"...Feasible..." Pepper murmured. "I'll place orders tonight, and we could probably get something in." She looked at them all. "General consensus, then?"

"Seems like a good idea." Bruce agreed. Clint huffed.

"You're just saying that 'cause you have the hots for her," he said, and for a second, Bruce's eyes shimmered green before Clint hastily added, "uh, it's a great idea though!"

"Agreed." Coulson and Natasha chorused. Steve nodded.

"I'll help with the cooking." He offered. "Tony said he knew how to cook and I'd like to cook with him!"

"The two of you..." Pepper smiled and huffed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Fine, then. We're in agreement." She checked the time on her phone and frowned. "But it's almost eleven...I think we should get going. We've been gone for awhile."

"We were enjoying ourselves, so I'm sure Tony won't mind. He probably barely noticed we were gone--he was in his lab, remember?" Steve smiled. "I'll go buy him some ice cream like I promised before we go."

Steve disappeared inside as Clint clutched his chest and groaned dramatically.

"He's giving me diabetes, Phil," he whined, leaning against Coulson as his lover looked at him and raised a single eyebrow, relatively unperturbed, "save me before I go into a diabetic coma..."

"If you put down the ice cream, I think it would help." He remarked. Clint whined louder. Coulson just sighed and patted his head.

Steve came back out a few minutes later with a white waxy bag for the ice cream, smiling brightly as he joined up with everyone else.

"Are we ready to go?" He asked. "We _are_ still walking back home, right?"

"Mhm." Pepper said, standing up and brushing off her skirt. "You lead the way, Captain. You've got to get home before that ice cream melts."

He knew they were probably teasing him about it, but Steve, with his enhanced speed, did manage to make it home quicker than any of them. He justified his urgency and worry with the fact that he had brought ice cream with him, and Tony would absolutely hate melted ice cream.

  
...

 

Tony sighed and wiped sweat off of his forehead, grinning like a fool and patting the handlebars of the bike.

He had gone all-out on this one, and he knew it--he had made sure it was perfect, a star-spangled dream of a bike that ran better than Steve could even imagine, he figured, and it shone in chrome, scarlet, and sapphire, the white enamel coating shimmering brightly under the lights of the lab. Tony resisted the powerful urge to preen and settled on a bright smile of triumph, putting his goggles around his neck and going to the door of the lab, meaning to wash up before Steve and the others came home.

As luck would have it, however, Tony opened the door only to see Steve standing at the threshold of his lab, a white bag in his hands and a nervous grin on his face.

"Um, hi, Tony," he said cheerfully, the sound of his voice lighting up Tony's heart, "I got you ice cream. Pepper told me you liked chocolate and strawberry?"

"I...I do." Tony murmured. "I...thanks." He swallowed, unsure of what to do. Steve kept giving him gifts and he didn't really know how to reciprocate--Steve didn't want his body or his money...

He brightened up, realizing that he had actually already made something to give Steve in return--the only other talent he had. Steve had great timing, it seemed.

"Hey, Steve. C'mere for a sec." Tony told him. "I have something to show you before I go take a shower and start on that ice cream."

"Yes, I do think you need a shower..." Steve remarked wryly. "No offense, Tony, but you look like you've just run a marathon."

"Well, I was rather busy," Tony said proudly, turning around and gesturing to the bike as the lights around him brightened to reveal the motorcycle to Steve, the body glimmering with shining glory, "making you a new bike."

Steve stared at it. His jaw was agape, his eyes were wide as saucers, and his face was bright red.

"Tony," he said weakly, like he couldn't think of anything else to say, "Tony, I can't accept this..."

"Oh yes you can," Tony retorted, "you got me ice cream!"

Steve actually laughed, shaking his head. His eyes were warm and glimmered with happiness as he looked at Tony and gestured to the bike.

"I wasn't expecting anything in return from that! You don't have to give me _anything_ , Tony, I just like giving you gifts, but oh my _gosh_ \--"

"Did you just say gosh?" Tony demanded. "Stop it. You're making me feel bad for saying fuck."

"Well, it's not particularly polite, but, um--Tony, oh my, I--the bike..." Steve bit his knuckle and looked away. "Oh, Tony...I don't know what to say."

"I tried to make it look a little like your old one," Tony murmured, "with some adjustments, of course." He brightened up again. "It's better than dad's, right? I made a better one for you?"

Steve wasn't sure if he wanted to hug Tony or scold him. He settled on a gentle mix of both.

Steve took Tony into his arms and sighed, shaking his head and smiling before pulling away to meet Tony's eyes.

"Tony, honestly, you really don't think you mean more to me than Howard did, do you?" Steve said quietly.

Tony looked away. He didn't say a word, but the silence spoke volumes, and it told Steve everything he needed to know. Steve sighed and pulled Tony close again, as if to remind him with the force of his presence alone that he meant everything in the world to him.

"You're wrong, though; you're my best friend in the whole world. And...you did this for me, and I...I just don't know what to say." He looked so pained as he shook his head. "No one's ever bought me a gift before I met you. No one ever...ever..."

"No one ever made me feel like they deserved all I could give, so we're even," Tony said, his voice tender, "Steve, please take this. It's...it's all my skill. It's the best thing I can give you."

"Tony, the best thing you can give me is time to spend with you," Steve told him, reminding him gently, "because all I want to do is be with you, always."

Tony looked up at him, and the utter confusion in his eyes broke Steve's heart. He gripped Tony tighter and closed his eyes, steeling himself. If Tony could teach him about the future, Steve could teach Tony about what it meant to actually love someone. It wasn't that hard. And for his Tony, nothing was out of the question.

"Please don't think you need to give me things just because you have money or anything," Steve instructed him, keeping his voice gentle, "because I would be happy if we just sat on the couch and watched TV together, forever. That's how much I like being around you."

"I'd be okay with that too," Tony said, in a tiny, pained voice, "but...you do like the bike, right? Please say yes. I'll fix it if you don't."

"It's beautiful." Steve said simply. "I don't know what to say except thank you. You're amazing, Tony."

"Anytime, Steve." Tony whispered. "Anything for you."

The two of them stood there for a second.

"I _do_ mean more to you, right?" Tony ventured.

Steve sighed. He knew Tony needed everything confirmed for him at least ten times over, if only to force the idea that he was worth anything through the minute cracks in that massive wall of self-hate and deprecation he had kept up, and as hard as forming his wordless, all-encompassing love for Tony into words he could force from his mouth was, he knew it was worth it--it was just a bit complicated.

"Tony, you mean more to me than anyone else in the world." Steve promised him. "Your father was a friend and a comrade. You are my best friend and my partner. You...you're Tony, and that alone makes you mean more to me than anyone." He smiled. "I just like you for who you are as Tony Stark. You know that."

"...Okay." Tony said quietly. "The bike made you happy, right?"

"Yes, it did." Steve promised. "We'll go out to breakfast tomorrow. I'll drive." He grinned. "What do you say?"

Tony grinned, delighted.

"Sounds like a great idea." He said. "Now come on. I have to put this in the freezer for a bit and shower. You want to pick a movie in my room?"

"Yes please." Steve agreed. "I like your bedroom's television. It's very sleek. And there are no antennae."

"Well, duh." Tony said, shaking his head and smiling as they made their way upstairs, the motorcycle still shining dully behind them, as if it had taken some of their love into itself so it could shine even in the dark. "Steve, you do know no televisions have those anymore, right?"

"Oh, I do," Steve said, smiling pleasantly, "but I do like hearing you explain things to me, so I point out the differences anyway sometimes."

Tony's cheeks were bright red as he ducked into the kitchen to put the ice cream in the freezer for a little while. Steve just continued smiling mildly as he made his way upstairs to put on the movie.

 


	35. A Hard Day's Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has a bit of a problem. Loki waits. Thor reminisces. Everyone decides that waking up is for quitters. Tony makes a bunch of nerdy references. Reactors do not dream as androids do, so it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tee-hee, Steve's problem. I am definitely twelve. I don't even care anymore. I am a grown ass woman and I can write about boners if I want to.   
> ...I need that on a tee shirt, okay? Yeah. Definitely.   
> Anyways, seriously, the segues in this; "THOR FEELS! LOKI FEELS! tee hee Steve." I mean, oops. But there's nothing to be done about it...it was either that or the chapter was really short, so!  
> Also Tony is a big fat nerd. Seriously, out of all of them, he's the one I imagine being the biggest pop culture junkie, with Clint coming in close second, hindered only because he grew up as a circus hobo and then became a secret agent. So Tony takes him under his wing in the pop culture department, as he does Steve. In Tony's perfect world, they would all be able to recite references and memes in their sleep. And yet!  
> Though the Philip K. Dick reference is rather apt, considering RDJ himself was in A Scanner Darkly's adaptation...huh. Didn't even occur to me until just now.  
> ANYWHO FEELS AND MORNING WOOD; FANFIC WRITER'S BREAD AND BUTTER  
> The end!  
> Hope you like this chapter~

The rest of the night was spent peacefully. Even Loki slept unawares and did not sing, his throat letting itself heal. Despite normally preferring a bed to the plush allures of the couch, Pepper was back on the couch that night, falling asleep on Bruce's shoulder by midnight. No one said anything, considering they had already fallen asleep, having pretty much succumbed to exhaustion the second they got back.

Steve and Tony sat upstairs, at peace and half-asleep, watching a few movies in Tony's room. Tony looked exhausted, and about halfway through their second movie, Steve finally put a gentle hand on Tony's cheek and pulled the blankets up around him.

"It's getting late, Tony," Steve said gently, "and just so you know, once we go back to work, we're going to adjust your bedtime, okay?"

"Mmkay." Tony mumbled. He was sleepy and content, in no position to argue. Steve smiled.

"Don't worry. I'll make sure we come up with a schedule that works together." Steve soothed him. "I just want to make sure you get a good night's sleep."

"Mhm." Tony agreed. "Otherwise we'll be in for a hard day's night..."

"Huh?" Steve tilted his head, confused. Tony just laughed.

"It's nothing. You'll get it once the Beatles records JARVIS bought ship to the house." Tony explained. "S'time for bed now?"

"Mhm." Steve said. "I'll see you in the morning, Tony."

"...Steve?" Tony mumbled, his voice timid as he looked up at him. "I...I don't...want to sleep alone." He swallowed, clearly aware of how awkward his proposal sounded. "I...I just...I think, maybe..."

"You've had a lot of lovers in your bed." Steve murmured. "And they've all hurt you, haven't they?" He leaned in a little closer and took Tony's hand. "I understand. You want a friend to stay. That's fine, Tony. Completely understandable." He said.

 _Except I don't want you to be a friend._ Tony thought privately. _I want you in this bed to hold me and kiss me and make me feel like I'm not a worthless whore, but I suppose we can compromise for the time being._

"Yeah." He murmured, despite now feeling like the biggest liar in the world. "I just...I want someone to stay who...y'know..." He shrugged. "I guess someone who can deal with the reactor lighting up the room is good."

"I think that's amazing." Steve gushed, delighted, as all the lights went off, leaving them both softly shaded in the pale glow of the reactor. "I mean, you look..."

He looked into Tony's eyes and shook his head, awed. Tony's heart seized up a little at the intensity of Steve's gaze.

"You look wonderful." Steve told him. "So...different. Like you've got a halo..." He blushed self-consciously. "Y'know, only in your chest." He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry the metaphor doesn't make much sense, but I couldn't think of a lot of things that glowed like the reactor..."

"I am the last person on Earth who would be in the running for a halo." Tony remarked. "But...thanks, Steve." He laid back against the pillows.

"At any rate, I dunno if friends always sleep next to each other, but you don't need to be on the opposite side of the bed." Tony teased lightly, trying not to show that it pained him. Steve noticed, though; he kept it to himself and tried not to show his concern.

"Would you like me to come closer?" He asked, his cheeks tinged slightly pink. "I'm sorry. I thought it impolite."

"It's no big deal," Tony said, despite the fact that the thought of Steve close to him in bed was making his heart tremble in his chest, "it's just...y'know. It...it feels strange to have someone in my bed, but not...y'know, next to me."

"It's okay, Tony," Steve murmured, crawling across the vast expanse of the bed to snuggle into the sheets right next to Tony before he whispered, "I just...have a question." He swallowed. "Could I touch the reactor again, please? Just a little?"

Tony closed his eyes and swallowed. The images of Obadiah swam past his eyes, and he tried not to vomit or scream with panic, despite the terror that gripped him. It was dark and he was vulnerable and oh, god, please...

He managed to banish those in time to remember how disgusted everyone else was with the reactor. How even women who had gotten close enough that he could dream, maybe, that they might want him, backed away and made polite excuses once the reactor was bared, glowing as if to ward them off.

"Okay." He said, despite all this, because it was Steve, and Steve had held his heart in his hands for longer than Tony could ever remember. Doing that physically wasn't that big of a step forward, he figured. "You can, if you want."

"I'm honored that you trust me with your reactor." Steve whispered. "Just so you know, Tony."

"...You're welcome." Tony mumbled, because Steve really did sound honored and proud and he wasn't sure how to respond to that.

Steve's fingers were on the reactor, suddenly, and Tony stiffened, his heart thumping against his chest as the reactor glowed insistently, as if in protest.

"Goodnight." Steve told the reactor, his tone gentle and loving, and Tony tried not to laugh as he realized they were going to have to have a talk about this. "Thank you for keeping Tony here so we could be together. Sweet dreams."

Steve looked up at him and Tony wanted to alternately laugh and kiss him for the innocence in his eyes.

"Does the reactor dream?" He asked. Tony bit his lip to keep from laughing.

"Yes," he said, "it dreams of electric sheep."

There was a pause between the two of them as they settled into bed, snuggling up under the covers.

"Steve?" Tony finally ventured after a few minutes. "Uh, you do know the reactor isn't really sentient like JARVIS, right?"

"Of course." Steve said casually. "But it's your heart, so I figure I can tell it things like that. You know, so you'll remember."

Tony's eyes went wide as Steve closed his and laid his head against the pillow.

"Goodnight, Tony," he murmured, "sweet dreams." Steve smiled up at him. "Thank you for being here. I'm so glad we're together."

He fell asleep a minute after--he was certain Tony was safe and sound beside him, and he was exhausted, so there was no need for him to stay awake--and Tony stared at him for ten minutes after that, tears trailing down his cheeks. He didn't brush them away.

Then he laid down and situated himself so that Steve wrapped his arms around him in his sleep, instinctively pulling him close. It was probably being too forward. Tony did not care.

"Me too." He whispered, his voice hoarse with the weight of a love he had been carrying for almost forty years of his life, and the relief he had at finally being able to share that weight with the one man who deserved it. "Me too, Steve. Sweet dreams."

They fell asleep, then, together and at peace.

  
...

 

The next morning, no one wanted to wake up. Everyone would, in fact, wake up; first at seven, then at nine, then at one in the afternoon, but until that point, they all just looked around at each other, bleary-eyed, and as a group, sort of collectively said "fuck it," choosing instead to take this last day to sleep.

Therefore, by the time Pepper and Coulson, once again being the heralds of common sense and routine, decided to wake them all up, they decided to skip breakfast and instead enjoy a light, quick lunch. The feast tonight would be all the food they really needed.

Thor, to a mixture of everyone's amazement and dismay, was a booming source of help for the feast. It made sense, once they thought about it; Asgardians would be experts on this sort of thing, especially someone like Thor, but having the six-foot-seven god jovially conducting them about their business was a sudden sharp departure from the norm.

If they had looked closer, perhaps someone would have noticed the spark of remembrance and regret in his eyes. Thor reminisced as he worked, thinking only of the times where it had been both himself and Loki in the palace kitchens, putting together a feast to celebrate another victory.

Loki would tell him tales and promise to embellish the glorious fight Thor had just triumphed in, and he would pick his brother up and dance him about the room, teasing him. He had always teased Loki about it--how they would dance, as if Loki was a maiden to woo or bed, and Loki would roll his eyes and turn Thor's armor into cutlery, just to prove some kind of point. There had always been a sadness in his eyes, though, a regret he could not name...and it hurt, truth, to realize that he had never seen it until now, when it was far too late to do much about it.

Thor sighed softly. It did not matter. He would hold this feast for his friends and shieldbrothers. He would not think of his brother.

Except that he could not stop. Because Loki was thinking of him.

  
...

 

Loki did not tell time particularly well; it did not help that he was trapped underground within the bowels of S.H.I.E.L.D. with no clock or sunlight to tell him the time. Regardless, he had managed to discern days passing through when the agents came and left. This would be the last day before Thor came back to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, if he had ascertained everything properly.

Despite himself, his heart was filled with hope. He judged that understandable, at least--he had come here and let himself suffer for that purpose alone.

Thor would come back tomorrow. His brother would come back to him, for the first time since he had fallen from Asgard. They...they would be together. As it had been before. As it always should be.

The scalpels that cut his ever-rehealing flesh did not pain him today. The drugs they pumped through his veins could not touch him or influence him. The binds they caged him with did not put his soul in bondage, and so in his heart, he called for Thor.

Across the city, in the faintest of ways, for the rest of the day, Thor knew something was the matter. It was a nagging, small feeling--a pin hidden in a tunic, worrying the skin where Thor could not find it. But it put him in a state of unease, and that unease made him think of Loki.

He was unsure as to why, but it put him on edge, and so he threw himself entirely into the feast, ensuring that their last night of relative peace would be spent in happiness, as well.

Loki knew, despite his pleas, that Thor did not hear him--not in the way that would cause him to come save him. But it was only one day more before he came back, and Loki was a patient trickster. He was willing to wait. Thor would know, at least, that he had suffered. When he came back, he would be willing to save him.

  
...

 

That morning, before all the others had awoken, Steve woke first, immediately opening his eyes to check on Tony, to make sure he was all right.

Thankfully, he was. Tony slept peacefully in his embrace, the reactor glowing softly in the light. He didn't stir as Steve shifted in bed, uncomfortably aware of the usual morning problems. Steve tried to edge out of bed as subtly as possible; but as if Tony could sense him moving away, he whined in his sleep and nuzzled closer into Steve's embrace, his arms locked tight around Steve's own to keep him from leaving. Even in his sleep, Tony was desperate for someone to stay.

Steve sighed heavily and kissed the top of Tony's head, shaking his head and willing himself to ignore the heat lazily creeping through his veins, like a half-asleep cat puddled up in a pool of sunlight. It wasn't a big deal. His problem would go away if he ignored it, and for now, he could stay here. Tony would have to wake up eventually.

...Hopefully, soon, Steve decided as he heard the sounds coming from downstairs. It looked like Thor had gotten control of the kitchen, and that didn't seem like an idea that was going to end well for anyone involved.

 


	36. Dream Confessional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has a bit of fun in his dreams. Thor tries to be helpful. Clint is Cupid and Pepper will cut you if you say her real name out loud. Steve has feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Tony having a wet dream, because obviously. I'm surprised I haven't written one of these yet. Nothing TOO explicit, though. Not yet.  
> Foreshadowing of angst! Kids like angst, right? Angst is cool? God I hope so. Yeah they're gonna go through the wringer for awhile. Enjoy it. <3  
> Dunno what else to say aside from that, haha...I just hope you like this chapter.  
> Oh, and one last question; so, anyone know any Steve/Tony centric tumblrs that accept fanfic submissions? I'd like to get this fic out there a little more, but I don't know where to start...suggestions? Thanks, loves. ^^

In his dreams, Tony was held in strong arms, safe and sound. In his dreams, Tony was laid down on his bed with gentle, careful hands.

He was being kissed, now; the soft brush of lips against the most sensitive points of his neck made him squirm and whine, and he panted helplessly against the kiss of whomever was holding him close. Tony couldn't see their face, but he felt them all around him, stroking lightly, their hands in his hair, their lips on his neck, moving down to his chest, and oh, god--the reactor, whirring lightly, the touch of lips against the glow that made his whole body jolt and his mouth work uselessly in a silent scream.

The hands pulled away and Tony whimpered without shame, his eyes bright as he pleaded for more as best as he could, bucking his hips up as if to remind the person with careful hands, whomever they were, that he needed to be touched so very badly.

It was then that he heard a soft laugh and knew exactly whom the hands belonged to. Tony's heart stuttered, and his breath caught in his throat. Even in a dream, he felt shameful for what he was doing. Not with him...not with _him_ , he didn't deserve it...

The smiling face of Steve Rogers came into focus then, warm with desire and flushed with lust, his lips quirked up in the language of love, as best as Tony could speak it. He shook his head, silent as the snow, before taking Tony into his arms and putting him onto his lap, his legs wrapping around his as Steve nuzzled his neck.

There was no speech, or warm words that banished all of Tony's sorrows and misgivings about himself--understandable, considering this was all in Tony's head, and even his subconscious couldn't come up with a reason as to why he should love himself--but there were lips on skin and hands on the waist of his pajama bottoms, and for Tony, that was enough. That was all he deserved.

Still, even for the normalcy of body language--the kind Tony spoke best, the only kind his mangled mental state could formulate, comprehend, and express--there seemed to be something... _off_ about the way Steve touched him. Something so gentle and delicate, like he was balancing a butterfly on the tip of a knife. Steve treated him like he was precious and worth handling with care.

Tony didn't understand it, but it was a dream, and he surmised that you really weren't supposed to understand anything in a dream.

Steve's hands were inside his briefs now, and Tony was being held in such a way that he never had been before, despite his multitudes of partners--he was touched like he was something delicate, held as if he was being cradled and caressed, and it made him sob, the sweetness of his hands far too much to bear, even then, because no one had ever done it before, and the dream--the dream--

Before Tony could say anything, beg for more, beg for Steve to stop, anything at all--

He awoke in Steve's arms with the familiar creeping heat in his veins and a tightness below the waist. Tony would have pushed away immediately, humiliated and ashamed, save for the fact that he could feel _Steve_ against him, strong and powerful and commanding, and it made him weak-kneed in a way he hadn't been since puberty. He swallowed and shook his head, feeling damp hair clinging to his forehead and sweat soaking his palms. God, he was really going to hell for this one.

Steve slept on, peaceful, and Tony couldn't help but be soothed by that, unaware that Steve was faking sleep--Steve was quite good at doing so, for a multitude of reasons, some of which he would rather like to forget--so Tony fell back asleep unawares, and they stayed that way for a little while.

After enough time had passed for it to seem legitimate for Steve to just suddenly awaken, he did; he pulled away and sat up in bed, murmuring, "Thor seems to be taking over your kitchen. Do you plan on doing something about that?"

Tony grumbled, half-asleep, but the horror of that hit him soon enough and so he sat up as well, looking over at Steve and grinning.

"We could lure him out with pop-tart crumbs," he began, "and trap him under a box or something. Y'know, mail him off to Timbuktu."

"Or you could go down there and lend Pepper a hand." Steve chastitised him. Tony huffed.

"Yeah, that too." He agreed grudgingly. "C'mon, Steve. Let's shower and get dressed first--it's already mid-afternoon and we might as well look nice for the feast."

"Agreed." Steve said. "I'll help cook, though, so...shouldn't I--"

"Eh, we have aprons," Tony said, getting out of bed, "you'll be fine."

There was an awkward pause as Tony stood in the doorway of the bathroom. He swallowed, nervous.

"Did you, uh...did you like being in here?" He asked.

Steve shifted in bed nervously, tilting his head as if to consider his answer before finally, he nodded, his smile soft and sweet.

"You have a very nice bed." He agreed. "And I'm glad you got to realize that you're not just...you know, uh...good for just being a lover. I think."

Steve's face was bright red. Tony just shrugged and headed into the bathroom, but there was a smile on his face, so a very embarrassed Steve bolted back to his own bathroom and chalked it up as a success.

Neither of them spoke of how they had woken up that morning. It was better that way.

  
...

 

Tony met Steve at the end of the hallway. Tony was dressed in a comforable button-down and slacks; Steve, true to his all-American perfection, was dressed in rough jeans and a Brooklyn Dodgers shirt. Tony couldn't help but take in the sight of Steve's lower half, encased in the worn denim that hid absolutely nothing. If he was going straight to the special hell, he would enjoy every minute he spent in the handbasket down.

"I know we're supposed to dress up all fancy, but I, err...well, if I'm going to help cook, y'know..." Steve laughed nervously. "I still look okay, right?"

"You look great." Tony said, his throat thick with emotion. "C'mon. Let's go see what we can do about helping out."

Steve followed him down the steps without complaint as Tony made his way into the kitchen--only to be greeting by a tight hug from Thor, enough to make his ribs groan in protest.

"Shieldbrothers!" Thor said jovially. "I am glad you two finally awoke from your slumber. The lady Pepper said we were not to wake you. She said you deserved as much rest as we could grant." He grinned. "Regardless, we began preparations. Steve, did you not say you could cook?"

"Yes, I can." Steve said, hurriedly edging out of the range of Thor's bearhugs. "What supplies do we have?"

"We bought vegetables and lamb at the market," Thor recited, taking out the thawed lamb, "and we gathered potatoes and seasonings. Plus, there is a store just down the way that sells mead!" He said cheerfully. "We have prepared crates!"

Steve tensed at that. Tony raised an eyebrow.

"...You mean liquor?" Steve asked, his voice quiet. Thor, unnoticing of his shieldbrother's sudden panic, nodded eagerly.

"Aye, the human mead. It is of no real weight compared to the meads of Asgard, but it shall do for this feast!" Thor said cheerfully. "Perhaps Anthony could prepare the crates of mead for tonight, if you are to aid in the cooking?"

Pepper shook her head. She looked as shocked at the relevation of mead as Steve, but she knew exactly what she was doing, and so she reacted first.

"I don't think--" She began, and Steve was already mentally praising her, fully realizing how much she had tried to be a good influence, but Tony cut her off.

"I'll go see what I can do." Tony said, excusing himself to go into the main hall and check on the crates.

" _No._ " Steve snarled.

It made them all stop in their tracks. His voice had become inhuman, vicious, and raw, and it did not ask to be obeyed--it _demanded_. Tony paused at the doorway at the sound of Steve's voice.

"It's just unpacking the beer, sweetheart." Tony soothed him. "Don't you want any for tonight?"

" _No._ " Steve snapped. "And _you shouldn't either_. Tony, you--"

Tony didn't seem to be listening now, already on his way out, waving his hand as if to dismiss his concerns.

"I'm just going to go unpack the booze, Steve. It's fine. Finish your cooking. I'm sure it'll be great. Bye."

Before Steve could grab him, Tony had slipped out the door and headed down into the main hall.

Steve stared at where Tony had been for a second, every muscle tense, his eyes alive with a fire that made Pepper and Clint, the people closest to him in proximity, back away quickly.

" _NO_!" Steve roared, slamming his hands through the counter, leaving holes where his fists had been. " _He can't_! He _can't drink_! I won't--no!"

"Steve, please," Pepper began, laying a hand on his shoulder, "Tony will be fine. We'll keep an eye on him. He won't get drunk, I promise."

"Shieldbrother, I am sorry..." Thor murmured. He looked heartbroken. "I did not mean for Anthony to be subject to this..."

"N-not...you." Steve whispered. "Not your fault. Me. Sorry. Overreacted. I...I, Tony...Howard..."

He began to sob, harsh choking gasps as his throat convulsed reflexively and tears spilled down his cheeks.

"Dad..." He shook his head and knelt on the tiles, shivering as tears continued to soak his shirt. "Gosh. Sorry. Lost it there. I..."

"Steve, it's going to be okay." Pepper said gently, kneeling beside him and putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I promise. I know you're scared. I used to get that way too. I was so worried about Tony when he drank." She sighed. "You can't make him quit cold turkey. He won't listen to anyone--not even you." She stroked Steve's back comfortingly, helping him stand. "Just keep an eye on him tonight. We'll make sure he doesn't drink too much, and later...at a better time...you two can have a serious discussion about it. Not now, though. He won't listen."

"I know." Steve said hoarsely. There were still tears in his eyes as he looked at her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt the counter. I can fix it."

"Eh, occupational hazard of living with a super-soldier." Pepper said warmly. "It's all right, Steve." She hugged him. "You're okay. You're going to be just fine. And so will Tony. You just have to give him time."

"Pepper?" Steve asked. "Is his how you used to feel? When...when Tony wouldn't let you help him?"

"Oh, god yes," Pepper said, shaking her head, "all the time, Steve. It's...it's hard." She sighed. "I'm sorry."

"I...I'm worried about him, but I'm not sorry," Steve murmured, "I mean, now I know just how much you sacrified and how hard it was!" He smiled. "You are very brave, Pepper. I'm very glad you took care of him."

She looked away hastily to hide tears. Steve put a hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you." He said. "You did a wonderful job. And I really understand now." He sighed. "We should get started on dinner..."

"Indeed." Thor said, guilt clear on his face. "Steve, I am--I am so sorry--"

"Don't be, Thor," Steve said gently, "there's nothing to apologize for. You didn't know." He sighed. "Just help us keep an eye on Tony, okay?"

"Of course!" Thor said, sounding indignant, as if it had never been a question in his mind. "We shall all keep an eye on him. He is our teammate and my shieldbrother, and I do not wish for him to harm himself with mead."

"Good," Steve said gently, "then I'll start on dinner. Does lamb with mint jelly sound like a good main course?"

"Splendid." Pepper said, ruffling his hair. "I'll get the rosemary potatoes together. Thor, Bruce, Coulson, go out and get dessert."

"The two of them?!" Coulson groaned. "Pepper, you can't--"

"Someone needs to go as damage control, and I'm kind of busy doing it here." She snapped.

"I...um." Bruce coughed nervously. "No offense to Phil, but...I would rather if you came with me, Virginia." He grinned weakly. "I mean, the worst Phil could threaten me with to calm me down would be a debriefing on whatever damage I cause. Or three forms of paperwork in triplicate."

"I am not that bad." Coulson muttered, but he knew an opportunity when he saw it, and even he got frustrated with being damage control. "I think you should go, Pepper." He said, raising his voice a little. "You know, you've become essentially an honorary member of the Avengers...you should see how they work. And learn how to deal with them."

"...I..." Pepper sighed and massaged her temples. "Fine! _Fine_! But _you_ deal with them in the kitchen, Phil, and if I come home to a mess--"

"You won't, you won't," Clint soothed her, pushing her out the door, "now go on, enjoy yourself, give 'em hell, you know."

"Did he call me Virginia? Who told him my real name was _Virginia_?" Pepper demanded. "And are you-- _Clint Francis Barton_ \--"

"Who told you my middle name!?" Clint snapped. "Phil! Phil, you _traitor_!"

"Good luck, Bruce." Coulson said, pushing him out of the house insistently, ignoring Clint. Natasha pursed her lips and decided against mentioning that she had been the one to reveal that little secret to Pepper. Bruce sputtered as Thor clapped him on the shoulder brightly.

"Indeed!" Thor cried. "Come, friend Banner, and I will regale you with my own attempts to woo maidens!"

Bruce's eyes flashed green. Thor just dragged him down the driveway as everyone waved them off cheerfully. Pepper had begun to beat her head against the steering wheel.

"God, I think I really am Cupid." Clint said, grinning wickedly, his scandalous middle name evidently forgotten. "Aren't they cute?"

"Twenty bucks says that car ends up trashed." Coulson offered. Natasha chuckled.

"Fifty." She murmured. "It matters not. Pepper has adjusted so well to us...to this life..." She smiled. "She should be proud."

"She should be, but by the end of tonight...I think she's just going to end up with a splitting headache." Coulson remarked dryly. "I think it's some kind of initiation."

"Yeah, you nannies have to stick together." Clint teased. Coulson just kissed the corner of his mouth in response, gentle and loving. Clint actually blushed, smiling warmly as he and Natasha slung their arms around Coulson and headed inside.

 


	37. Ice Cream and Matchmaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper has her shit together and is possibly smarter and more capable than pretty much everyone on the team except Coulson. At least when it comes to social niceties and how to handle people and real life. Thor likes ice cream. Bruce is so awkwardly cute it hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the next chapter is Pepper/Bruce centric, so if you're wondering how the hell my crack got into your Steve/Tony, I'm sorry in advance. I like crack pairings, you guys.  
> For the record--no, I won't partake in Betty Ross bashing, because for one, character bashing, especially on the grounds of "she has a vagina and this offends me," is really dumb. Two, I really do like her; I just...honestly don't know her well enough to write her. At least, not in the movieverse--I confess, I've never seen the Hulk movies. When they came out I was either too young to see them or not really into the Hulk. I'm STILL not; I just love Bruce. A lot. I could not care less about the smashing, lolsob.  
> Anyways, yeah, Steve is fussing over Tony. Not that it isn't completely and totally justified, but I promise, Steve has some angsty reasons for doing so, and there's gonna be some Steve-torture soon. I know y'all have been begging me for it--well, a few more chapters, I promise.  
> Speaking of...the fortieth chapter will be published on Thursday, because Avengers midnight premiere. I'm lucky enough to be going, so I'll celebrate with "finally, UST=resolved!"  
> So the chapter updates might be a little weird since Thursday's still SO FAR AWAY AUGH, but just so you know in advance.  
> Anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter~

Steve was still cooking, grateful for the quick moment of peace. He couldn't help but worry, still. He heard Tony out in the hall, moving the crates around, unpacking everything, and it made him nervous--sick to his stomach, almost. 

He ignored it best as he could and continued his cooking. Tony would be all right. They would watch over him. He would have Pepper back soon. She would know what to do. 

Steve put the lamb in the oven to roast and massaged his temples, suddenly aware of a pounding headache. 

"So, operation hookup a success, or what?" Clint crowed, sauntering in with a grin on his face. Coulson grinned.

"This wasn't a hookup." He chastised Clint gently. "I just think Pepper should learn how to handle people who are different than Tony in their...oh shall we say... _idiosyncracies_." He said. "She certainly knows how to handle Tony...but Bruce and Thor are another kind of problem, with different solutions to their issues."

"Yeah, and only one of them's gonna be solved with kissy-face." Clint chirped, looking far too delighted about his new role as Cupid. Natasha actually laughed.

"So...you left her alone with the Hulk?" Steve said, confused. "Isn't that...dangerous?" 

"That's the thing." Coulson said. "This isn't just for Pepper--this is for Bruce, too. He needs to practice restraint in his private life and quit thinking of himself as a weapon at all times." He sighed and massaged his temples. "I'm hoping he'll learn how to control himself if he's got a reason to do so." 

"And if he can't?" Steve murmured. Coulson looked up at him. He looked worn out.

"That's why I sent Thor with them." He said. 

"I see." Steve said quietly. "I...I suppose. She will be safe?"

"I'm not Fury," Coulson defended himself, "I wouldn't send her out if I didn't think she would be safe. She'll be all right. She knows to call."

"All right." Steve sighed, massaging his temples. Too much, too fast. And he had to admit, despite his worry for Pepper...his main concern...

"Could one of you check on Tony?" He asked. "The lamb's roasting, but I have the potatoes to prepare..."

"Fair enough." Coulson offered. "I'll go. Clint, why don't you and Natasha make sure the table's set for tonight?"

"All right...look, be careful, Phil." Clint murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth, as Coulson had done to him. Coulson smiled and hugged him quickly, a simple gesture--the agent was still too prim to show much in public, but the archer understood. He and Natasha fled into the dining room, hand in hand.

"Please take care of him." Steve told Coulson, his tone pained. "I...I don't think I can...be of much help. Not when he's...the booze, and I--"

"Steve, ssh." Coulson soothed him. "You're not doing this alone. I can go take care of Tony right now. It's fine. Finish dinner."

Coulson left the kitchen, leaving Steve standing there, helpless and panicking, his heart heavy in his chest. 

Steve closed his eyes and steeled himself. He wasn't alone. He had the others to help him, too. He would be all right--and so would Tony.

That settled in his head, he smiled to himself, a little more reassured, and started in on the potatoes.

...

While Coulson kept a close, careful eye on Tony, making sure he didn't take any of the booze while he was unpacking and decide to start drinking early, Pepper was dealing with an entirely different set of problems downtown.

"So," she said, sitting in the front seat of one of Tony's almost hideously expensive cars and trying not to scream, "what are you two partial to?"

"On Asgard, we had apples enchanted to contain sweets." Thor murmured. "In fact, I believe my brother came up with them..." He trailed off for a second, considering. "Loki is a clever mage. I do not believe there is a single mage on Midgard such as him."

"Probably not." Pepper agreed. "But that's okay. I don't think we have things like that, regardless..." She sighed. "Ice cream okay? I can find a few different flavors for you to try if we head down to that little hipster place on Houston."

"Ice cream is one of the most confusingly singular and yet vast things of repast that humans have come up with." Thor declared. "Truly, it is a wonder."

"Taking that as a yes." Pepper said, trying not to smile and failing. So long as he wasn't destroying anything and Bruce wasn't Hulking out...things actually weren't half bad. "Bruce?" She asked. 

The scientist had been snuggled into the shotgun seat of the car, staring out the window, all his bravado from before gone. He was cripplingly shy, so it seemed, which didn't surprise Pepper one bit. Social constructs were fraught with opportunities for the Hulk to rear his head.

"I..." He swallowed and shifted in his seat, face red. "Um. I like things." He blabbed. "Lot of things, really. Lot of...dessert...things."

"Okay." Pepper said, trying not to smile. He would get the wrong idea. "How about you narrow it down a little for me, Bruce? I mean, I know Tony has a lot of money, but this is a tiny car, and we can only hold so many dessert boxes."

"Oh, um, sorry. So sorry." Bruce apologized. "What do you like?"

"I'll tell you if you tell me what you like." Pepper said lightly. Thor sat in the back, looking like a cat with a few canary feathers in its mouth. Bruce just looked horrified.

"Uhm, I guess...eclairs," he fumbled for an answer, "I mean, ice cream and cheesecakes and things like that are lovely but I didn't really have the refridgerator needed for them in a lot of places where I used to live, and eclairs can be eaten quickly, which is good, because I mean, I had to be on the run a lot, and I, I don't really know where I'm going with this, and you're laughing at me and that's fine, just--"

"I'm really not." Pepper said, shaking her head and giving him what she hoped was a warm, gentle look. Steve had the monopoly on that in their house. She would need to ask him for lessons. "I promise, I'm not making fun of you. I do think you're being more nervous than you have to be, but that's fine." She patted his hand gently. 

"And, for the record, I happen to like green tea ice cream, but Tony hates it, so we never keep it in the house." She said. Bruce's eyes flashed green again and he growled quietly.

"That's ridiculous." He snapped, and his skin was turning green as his lips pulled back in a snarl. Pepper did not so much as twitch. "Honestly, I know Stark seems to lack empathy for anyone other than himself, but really, I doubt the contents of his fridge are somehow sullied by the existence of simple _ice cream_ \--"

"Bruce, ssh." Pepper said. She was already mentally devising tricks to dealing with him--it had become instinct, second nature, standard operating procedure for anyone she knew at this point, truth be told. She had a solution already. Divert the topic from whatever it was and re-allocate interest in another subject. "If I wanted it that badly I wouldn't care what Tony whined about, I'd buy it anyway. I just don't see it in the stores that often and I don't have the time or interest to go looking." She promised. "So, you like eclairs?"

The green sparks in his eyes died down, and he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing twice before he nodded, his skin returning to normal.

"Mhm." He said. "Have you ever had chocolate ones with strawberry mousse? They're splendid, but hard to come by." He smiled. "Much like green tea ice cream, I'd assume."

Pepper laughed lightly, shaking her head.

"No, I haven't." She said. "But we can add them to the list and I'll give them a shot." She hummed quietly. "So, our current list is a few flavors of ice cream, chocolate and strawberry eclairs, and a few cheesecakes, because Coulson's partial to those, and Clint is like a tiger shark; he'll eat damn near anything, preferably smeared over either Phil or Natasha's chest." 

Both men cracked up. Pepper just grinned. 

"He is not that bad, I assure you." Thor said, eyes twinkling. "I am certain there are times he lets them share in that sort of experience. Perhaps we ought to invest in some of those candied syrups Midgardians use for confectionaries?"

"Oh, god, I'm not an enabler." Pepper said, still laughing. "No, it's fine. I mean, Clint probably keeps a lifetime supply of those in their fridge anyway." She pulled into the store's parking lot and took out the keys. "Any other suggestions before we go in?"

"Tiramisu?" Bruce asked. "That or brownies."

"Not bad." Pepper agreed. "Okay, so we'll just keep our eyes peeled. You two ready?"

"Aye." Thor said, getting out of the car and shutting the door. Bruce just nodded, opening it and, before Pepper could even unbuckle herself and grab the handle, opening the door for her. 

"Um." He said. "I...figured you could use a hand?"

"Thank you." She said graciously. "I mean, I could've gotten out by myself, but it really was sweet." 

She didn't protest when he took her hand to help her out of the car either. 

"All this progress, and yet, I have yet to tell you both of the time I seduced eight maidens in a bar and managed to make them part of the royal court!" Thor said cheerfully. "Perhaps there is something in Midgardian courtship tactics as well!"

"Thor, I--not now." Bruce said, massaging his temples and biting his lip. The skin beneath his eyes had turned green, for only a second. Pepper took his arm.

"C'mon, let's go in." She said, keeping her voice light but firm, like when she had to deal with Tony deciding eight drinks was probable excuse for dancing with everyone in the club. "Eclairs, Bruce. Don't worry about Thor, he's trying to help."

"Please don't feel pressured about all this, I'm terribly sorry I even asked, I should've just let Coulson take us, and I didn't--I--I'm sorry, I just--" Bruce was shaking his head, his curls falling into his eyes, and Pepper just grabbed his wrist and made him look at her.

"I could've said no. The only person who controls my job is Tony, and even then, that's really more him being in control of the payroll, because let's face it, no one else would want my job, _ever_." Pepper said. "At any rate, I didn't come here because Coulson told me to. I don't give a shit about what Coulson tells me to do. S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't my boss."

Bruce managed to crack a smile.

"Such language." He teased. "And you're sharing a house with Captain America."

"Damn fucking hell-bitch shit-ass right I am, and so is Tony, and that has changed about absolutely jack and shit about how he talks, so I guess it doesn't matter that much." Pepper said casually. Even Thor looked a little shocked at the sudden litany of curses. She just huffed.

"At any rate, what does matter is that I definitely came here of my own free will to spend time with you, and I'm sorry that seems like a foreign concept to you, but believe me, I'm not Tony, I'm not riddled with neuroses and self esteem issues about guys who I privately think half a halfway-decent ass. I really just wanted to hang out and buy some ice cream." She said. "And that was my choice."

"...Only halfway-decent?" Bruce ventured. Pepper grinned.

"Maybe." She teased. "But you do get I'm here just to spend time with you and Thor, right?" She said. "Seriously. I mean, this isn't my job officially, but that doesn't mean I don't...y'know, get involved. I do want to spend time with all of you, but Clint and Natasha and Coulson are sort of, you know, lovey-dovey, and Tony and Steve are just, I mean, the tension is so thick you would need some kind of machete to hack it apart, and I mean--you two are probably the only two people aside from Rhodey who aren't pining over someone romantically, being fluffy-bun romance queens, or, you know, me." Pepper said.

"You have a way with words, Lady Virginia." Thor said. "And I am grateful you keep company with me. You are a fine woman, and steadfast in your devotion to this team!"

Pepper sniffed primly, but there was a small smile on her face as she held her head up.

"Furthermore, the last person who called me Virginia and was not promptly punched in the throat was my high school principal, and she was a six-foot-six former shotput captain, so I don't think you're in any position to be on equal ground with her." Pepper paused. "Maybe Thor."

"I'm not doing it to intimidate you or anything..." Bruce ventured quietly. "But is quite a lovely name." He swallowed nervously. "If it isn't your thing...are you all right with Pep?"

"Pep is good, Pep is fine, we really ought to go inside, Steve's probably mother-henning over Tony so hard he's plucked out half his metaphorical feathers and I need to make sure nothing explodes." She said. "Are you two ready?"

"Mhm." Bruce said. "Lead the way, Pep."

"Thank you." She said, heading inside without another word, the automatic doors whirring open for her. Thor and Bruce stood there for a second.

"She is a very forceful and proud woman." Thor said. "Very much like a few good friends of mine." He chuckled lightly. "You have alternately my congratulations and my sympathies."

"Thank you." Bruce said. "But I...I mean." He shrugged. "She's different. And my last lover ended badly, so...I just..." He shrugged again and looked up at Thor, smiling hesitantly. "Thanks for coming with me on this. I was nervous. Having a friend helps."

Thor pulled him into a tight hug, his booming laugh vibrating against Bruce's chest. 

"Of course, shieldbrother, for that is what comrades and brothers-in-arms are for!" He crowed. "Now we ought to hurry, though, because I doubt the key to her heart is making her wait for us."

"Agreed." Bruce said, entering the store with Thor at his side, grabbing another shopping basket as they caught up to Pepper.


	38. Green Tea Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper, Bruce, and Thor go get ice cream. There is fluff. Thor is in love with self checkouts so freaking hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates right up until Thursday, folks. Check it!  
> Anyways, this is dedicated to my friend Jordi for being patient while I babysat. Literally just as I sat down to update I get called to do it. Blargh.  
> Anywho! Pepper/Bruce! It's...well, Bruce doesn't have anyone who he gets shipped with often. And Pepper and Rhodey's dates would consist of "CAN YOU BELIEVE TONY THO OMG NO WAY" and a lot of crying and drinking. They're better off friends. So I threw Pepper and Bruce together mostly to see what would happen. I hope it works~  
> I really tried hard not to bash Betty, but I've legitimately never seen the Hulk movie so oops, sorry. I tried to be fair because I like her in comics canon, just...I'm not sure how to write her! My deepest apologies.  
> And that's mostly it. Also Thor you are just oh my god. I need to write more stories of him doing stupid shit. Self-Checkout v. Thor is the best.

Pepper smoothed her skirt nervously and made her way through the store. She had been a little hesitant to do this, in all truth--being around the Hulk wasn't her idea of a good time, but she knew she had to accept what the Hulk was if she wanted to get closer to Bruce. Besides, there wasn't a guarantee he would Hulk out or anything...

She sighed. And she _did_ have Thor as backup in case something went wrong...but that wasn't it.

He had seemed so nervous about giving her an answer. Almost like he thought what he liked or disliked didn't _matter_. He was interested in _her_ , sure, but not _himself..._

She frowned and shook her head. She recognized that from Tony, though she suspected that the neuroses in question, at least in Bruce's case, stemmed from a different root. Being considered a weapon wasn't exactly conductive towards high self-esteem.

Pepper looked up at the racks of boxes and observed them carefully. After a few minutes of searching she nodded, satisfied, and carefully put two boxes of the finest chamomile tea into her handbasket. 

He would learn to be more open about his preferences later, Pepper surmised, but she was observant. She could pick up on a few already.

Thankfully, from his place behind her, he didn't see what she had grabbed. Pepper turned back to look at him and tensed, immediately worried. His eyes were shimmering green, and his hands were shaking. 

"Something wrong?" She asked, keeping her tone light. "Sorry we haven't gotten to the ice cream yet. They've switched the aisles around. Truth be told, I'm a little lost."

Bruce looked away, biting his lip. His bearing was stiff, rigid, and his eyes were bright green and wild.

"Bruce, are you okay?" Pepper asked. "I--"

"Lights." Bruce said, and his voice was soft, but shook with pain and anger. "Fluorescent lights. They make this humming noise, and it--I can't...I was, for a time...locked in a place with the fluorescent lights and nothing else, and the humming, and I--" His throat worked convulsively. "Not a weapon. Not a weapon. But the humming, Pep. It hurts. It hurts and it makes me want to hurt. Not weapon. _Revenge_."

"Okay. Look at me. Look at me, right now." Pepper demanded, taking his chin in her hand and tilting it up to meet her gaze. "Bruce, ssh. You're okay. You're not in prison. I know there's fluorescent bulbs in here, and I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do about them."

_"Humming_ ," he gasped, "humming and the _screaming,_ and _please-_ -please run, _get away from me,_ I'm going to _hurt you_ , please--"

"No you're not." Pepper said firmly. "You're not going to Hulk out, we both know that. Don't think about the lights. Focus on the ice cream. The eclairs. Nothing's wrong, Bruce. Calm down." 

She didn't seem to be getting through to him. Pepper allowed herself a moment to panic as she watched his muscles expand and contract before she shook her head and took a box of chamomile out of the basket.

"Hey, look." She said gently. "Chamomile. See? I remembered. Better tea and T.S. Eliot than Grisham and beer, right?"

Bruce shivered.

"It seems like there should be a pun in there somewhere." He said, keeping his tone deceptively light. "But you are right. I...I can't...I can't hurt you. I need to stay calm." 

He took her hand, which had still been gripping his chin, and ran a gentle thumb over her palm. Pepper blinked. 

"Is this all right?" He asked. "Your skin is soft. It's soothing. I will let go, if you mind."

"I don't." Pepper said, keeping her tone light. "What do you think I can do about the humming, Bruce?"

"I...I don't...I don't know." Bruce swallowed. "I'll ignore it. I have to. I'm not going to--not here and not around you, I'm not a monster, not a _weapon_ , I--"

"No one said you were a weapon." Pepper said, keeping her tone careful and neutral. "And I definitely know you aren't a monster. You can just ignore it."

"I believe this may be where I can offer aid." Thor said quietly. "My brother...he taught me a few things of his magic, and while it does not speak to me in the way it does him, I can sing. If only a little."

Thor began to hum. It was quiet and low, but it filled Pepper with an instant, innate sort of peace that made her smile and relax instantly, her whole bearing going loose. Bruce relaxed as well, breathing soft and slow, a meditation tactic Pepper recognized from tons of personal use.

"Beautiful." Pepper whispered. "Thank you, Thor. Are you all right, Bruce?" She asked. Bruce nodded.

"Better." He said. "S-sorry about that. It...I...bad memories."

"Understandable," she told him, "please don't stress out about it. That will make things worse."

"Certainly." Bruce agreed. "Also, I believe ice cream is probably down two more aisles, if I'm not mistaken--there look to be refridgerators there." He explained. "The pastries are the aisle next to them--I will go look for the ice cream if you and Thor go look for those?"

Before Pepper could even agree or protest, he had bolted. She and Thor stood there for a minute, looking at each other.

"My lady, I believe he does not trust himself around us right now." Thor said. "Forgive me if I sound as if I am dictating your choices to you, but I do not believe it wise if we remain near him for the time being. He ought to have his peace."

"Agreed." Pepper said. "We'll get what we need and find him right after that."

"A sound plan." Thor agreed, letting Pepper lead the way into the pastries aisle.

...

 Bruce swallowed, his eyes twitching and his muscles tensing and contracting as he sagged against the freezer doors. 

He had almost hurt Pepper. He had almost hurt Pepper, with her warm eyes and freckled skin, and he was so angry at himself that he was a hairsbreadth away from letting him loose and smashing every goddamned light fixture in the store. 

Except...he couldn't. 

Bruce massaged his temples and began to breathe slowly, regulating his heartbeat and emptying his mind long enough to gain control of his muscles again and stand. He had done this before. It didn't always work. But it had to this time--he wouldn't let it fail.

He couldn't Hulk out. Not here and not now. Not in front of her--not after all she had just done for him. Her voice alone was a balm on his id, calming and gentle. Even Betty--god, he had _loved her,_ but...there had always been this hesitation that, perhaps, if he had not been so used to the unkind touch of others, he would have never noticed--but it was there. It was the quick stutter of fingertips every time she touched him...and it was entirely justified.

He held no grudges against her for leaving him. He had no regrets about being the one to send her away, either. He himself could barely handle the Hulk--to ask Betty to do it alongside him was the cruelest thing imaginable for either of them. He had let her go, even as he had loved her, because there was no way they could have been on the run together forever. Not with the Hulk.

It was a smart decision on both their parts, but Bruce figured that the smartest decision in a relationship with him involved usually ended in heartbreak. 

He sighed. But...that was the thing. Times had changed. He wasn't on the run for eternity anymore--he had a place to be, a home, friends, a team. Family. For the first time in his life- _-family_.

So he had gotten things under control, at least a little. He had only Hulked out during battle for the past month--even when Thor had broken the DVD player. He was doing better. He...he was safer than he had ever been.

And it wasn't just that he had changed--the woman he had loved was...different. Betty had been firm, strong, and powerful, an Army brat with a backbone of steel, but she had known exactly what he was capable of as a weapon, and that had been the _only_ reason why she had feared him. She knew his capabilities as a man would know his own gun and so she treated him with that exact same mix of respect, awe, and fear.

But Pepper--well, there was the thing. Pepper knew weapons. Hell, her boss-slash-best friend was a former arms dealer and a weapons expert, and it wasn't as if she did't know about his capability to become a weapon, fueled by rage and encouraged by destruction. But she did not _fear_ weapons, as one who used them rather than simply studied them might. She knew how to bring them to heel; Tony was living proof of that. So she did not treat him with awe or fear, merely interest and curiosity. She wanted to learn about him. 

Bruce swallowed, hands shaking as he kept moving down the aisle of freezers. She wasn't going to learn about him because he Hulked out in a hipster grocery store, that was for sure.

He managed a smile at that, running his hand through the few stray curls hanging low on his face. 

Pepper wasn't scared of him. She wanted to learn about him--both as a person and as the Hulk--and how to handle him when he got into his..."smash moods," so to speak, but...she wasn't afraid of him. This wasn't for some military experiment or to test his weapons potential. She just wanted to know how to help him, and how he needed to be treated.

It was, truth be told, a goddamn relief. 

Bruce felt himself relaxing. That was good. Keep thinking of Pepper. Just Pepper. Soft skin--there had been freckles, small dots against her skin, like someone had dripped sepia ink over her cheeks. He had liked them a lot. Wanted to kiss them.

Her hair was not fire, but the velvety bud of a flower--a softer red, the reddish-orange of a sunset that spread warmth over the expanse of a shivering night, rather than a fire that raged and burned and destroyed; not unlike him...

He swallowed. Pepper. Not the Hulk. Think of Pepper.

Soft skin. Freckles. Hair like sunset and flowers. Warm eyes, so bright and gentle...delicate hands. Careful hands. 

He could be held by those hands. Held and touched and stroked and soothed. But only as Bruce. Not as the Hulk. He had to stay calm. Just to feel her hand in his again.

That flicked some switch within him, and with a soft sob, Bruce felt himself relax, the Hulk retreating to the corners of his mind again, waiting for another opportunity. He would win, of course, and find another chance to show his face...but not today. Not when the promise of being able to take her hand again was at the forefront of his thoughts.

Bruce smiled. It wasn't a tight smile hiding a snarl, or the baring of teeth that predators specialize in; it was a sweet, simple smile, that wound slow across his face like a sunrise.

He stood up straight, straightened out his jacket, and began to pick out ice cream he thought everyone else would like.

Once he had gotten a few gallons for everyone, he stopped, realizing what was staring him right in the face.

Bruce grinned, delighted, and selected as many cartons of it as he could hold in his already overflowing basket. 

He met up with Pepper and Thor only a few minutes after. The relief on their faces at his having calmed down was blatant for a second or two before they schooled their expressions. Pepper's hand was gentle on his cheek, and he gasped softly, shocked at the contact. She just smiled.

"I knew you could do it." She said, and the pride in her tone was unmistakable. "Good job, Bruce. And thank you--god knows I didn't feel like filling out eighty reams of paperwork on how we wrecked a hipster mart."

"Neither did I." Bruce agreed with a dry smile. "But, truth be told, I did this for you." He coughed nervously, his face flaring up bright red as he took the shopping basket and hastily added, "I got the ice cream. Are we ready to purchase everything and head back, or...?"

Pepper didn't push the point. She knew he was shy, and besides--what he had said was enough to make her heart flutter wildly about her chest as they rung everything up at the self-checkout. 

Thor was totally enamored with the self-checkouts, of course, which was why she had done it; the two of them watched as he made his entire day and possibly filled a previously empty hole in his existence with the simple joys of self-checkout.

Before Thor could get the last items onto the counter, Bruce rang them up quietly and presented them to Pepper, his eyes sparkling as he grinned.

"I...I guess this is to make up for the fact that I don't own a hedgehog." He murmured. 

Pepper's eyes were wide, her mouth open in a small 'o' of shock. She took the cartons of green tea ice cream from him, and he noticed her hands were trembling.

"...I..." She blinked, and he saw the tell-tale sheen of tears in her eyes. "Oh, _god_. Thank you. Thank you _so much_."

"It was nothing." He murmured graciously. "But I figure that if you can't take care of yourself sometimes, there should always be someone to do it for you."

"Bruce, for god's sake, if you make me cry in the middle of a supermarket, I am going to slap you or something." Pepper gasped, her face red as she gripped his hands. "I don't know what to say."

"It's okay. You don't have to." He promised her. "Just ring up everything and we'll go, okay?"

"Okay." She agreed. "I got you your eclairs. We'll have to come here more often."

"I think so too." Bruce replied, keeping his voice light as he helped Thor bag the groceries. Pepper rung up the purchase and helped them get everything in the car.

On the way back, Thor watched with a mixture of interest, amusement, and satisfaction as, very carefully and with copious amounts of tenderness, Pepper's free hand came to lay on top of Bruce's, right over the center console, as the radio wound soft and sweet around all three of them, keeping them peaceful and content.


	39. Peppermint Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it begins. Steve is not happy. There is pain there, and a lot of old hurts. Tony doesn't give a fuck, because not even the great and wonderful Captain America could keep Tony from alcohol. After all, booze has been around for him much longer than Steve ever has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little short, but the next one's a very long one, and so please forgive me this short chapter!  
> Tony. Tony, Tony, good fucking hell, Tony. JARVIS has the patience of a saint.  
> Seriously though fuck the next two chapters. I can't stand to see Steve in pain. It legitimately caused me pain to write these chapters--writing Steve suffer when he's just...so heroic and a paragon and a model of integrity to look up to...well, ouch. It stung. But I persevered, and so y'all will have your suffering. I hope it's worth it! ^^

Back at the mansion, Steve was pacing, nervous. He didn't want to bring up anything major to Tony, but he couldn't...he couldn't just let Tony _drink._..

Steve swallowed. He was scared. He hadn't been scared in a long time, but he was scared now. He was shaking, in fact. Frightened and pained, nervous about what tonight might bring. But he didn't say a word. It wasn't his place...to yell at Tony. Not for his drinking. That wasn't Steve's decision to make...right?

"Cap?" Coulson's voice was soft in his ear as he made his way in, giving Steve a look of concern as he put his hand on his shoulder. "Tony's okay, Steve. He's unloaded all the stuff, but I made sure he didn't drink any. He's fine." Coulson promised. Steve nodded, suddenly feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from his chest.

"Thank you...thank you so much, Phil." Steve said softly. "I'm just...so worried about him." Steve swallowed. "I can't...I can't watch him..."

"Too late, I'm already in here." 

Tony's cheerful voice made Steve almost jump out of his skin. Tony stood in the doorway of the kitchen, grinning wickedly and looking right at Steve.

"So, I gotta go check on something in the lab quick, all right?" Tony told him. "You doing okay with dinner?"

Steve smiled, relieved Tony wasn't drinking. That overwhelmed every other feeling--including self-consciousness--so for a second, he took Tony's hand and squeezed it tight. 

"I should hope so!" He said cheerfully. "Do you like lamb, Tony?"

"Lamb's fine." Tony yawned and stretched. "Get Phil to go check on Clint and Natasha before they burn down my dining room. If you need me, call." He said. "Be careful around the oven."

Steve smiled and huffed, rolling his eyes and ruffling Tony's hair gently. 

"I'm not five, Tony." He murmured. "But okay. I'll be careful. You be careful too!" He said. Tony nodded.

"Okay." He said, his voice quiet as he left the kitchen and headed right down to the lab. Steve watched him go and sighed pleasantly. Beside him, Phil chuckled lightly, putting his hands in his pockets and looking up at the Captain.

"You're so in love with him." Coulson said, sounding more amused than anything. Steve just blushed and huffed primly.

"Well, that has nothing to do with it." He grumbled. "But...yes. I...I think I am, Phil." He smiled. "It's a really strange feeling, but I really...I really like it. I...I'm just very glad he wasn't drinking yet!" Steve sighed, relief clear on his face. "I'm almost done with everything. Why don't you go check on your lovers?" He suggested.

"I should." Coulson remarked, looking out the window and raising an eyebrow. "Pepper and Bruce are back with Thor...and it looks like they all came home pretty unscathed. The car's not totaled, anyway." He huffed. "I'll go out and check on them first."

"Okay." Steve agreed. "I didn't hear anything explode, so it's probably safe to go check on them before you go check in with Clint and Natasha."

"Probably." Coulson said, amused. "Though they've gotten a little better at quiet destruction since we began to live together."

The two men laughed at that before they split up, Steve staying in the kitchen as Coulson went outside, humming delightedly as he checked on dinner, relieved about Tony's safety and full of anticipation for the great night ahead.

...

Downstairs in his lab, Tony yanked a beer out of his jacket, ripped off the top, and drank it in two long slugs. JARVIS whirred. 

_"Sir..._ " JARVIS said quietly, _"you promised the Captain_..."

"I didn't promise him a fuckin' thing." Tony muttered. "JARVIS, fuck off. Let me drink my beer in peace." 

" _Anthony, you told him you would be careful. I believe that careful does not synch up with the idea of drinking in secret. You know what you are doing is wrong...please, stop. You know it will break his heart._ " JARVIS reminded him quietly. Tony shrugged and reached for the second beer he had grabbed.

"Whatever." Tony muttered. "If he doesn't know it happened, he can't get all huffy about it. Now; JARVIS, initiate shutdown of the voice systems."

_"Sir, please--Tony, don't--"_

"JARVIS." Tony's voice was cold as he finished the beer. "Shut down voice systems."

A singe whirr and a light on the large computer system that made up JARVIS had dimmed. Tony sighed. The problem with a semi-sentient AI was that shutting down his nagging voice wouldn't last forever. But it would give him a few more minutes alone with another beer, and that was enough.

Tony swigged down the last one and tossed the cans into the recesses of the lab. A pleasant buzz had already begun to settle over him and he frowned, frustrated. Only three beers and he was buzzed? Shit, he'd fallen out of practice.

Tony buried his head in his hands and sighed. 

"God  _dammit,_ Steve." He said, frustrated. "Can't you just leave me be on just this?"

The shield sat on the work table, a baleful reminder of what a failure he was as Tony popped a few mints and steadied himself enough to go upstairs without causing incident.

...

Steve hummed pleasantly as he heard Tony coming up the steps. The thought that he really did love Tony--that this wasn't just lust after eighty years without even a kiss, or a brothers-in-arms relationship being read as something else, or some quick fling...it filled Steve with a happiness at the mere thought of Tony that he couldn't quite explain. He couldn't wait until Tony was more settled into his life as an Avenger and a bit more healed up. Then he would tell him...he would tell him how much he loved him, and how he wanted to be with him forever and always...

Steve smiled at the thought of getting to marry Tony. For him to get the chance to stand by his side and exchange those lasting vows with him and start a life together, happy beyond measure--like...like what he had dreamed of doing after the war. 

Steve actually laughed at that. It was...a little late, sure, but it looked like his dream would come true after all.

Then the smell of peppermints hit him, and he tensed.

Steve liked peppermints okay. They were good, but not as good as chocolate. That wasn't the thing, though; the truth was that after a childhood spent with an alcoholic stuck in Prohibition, he had learned the difference between peppermint and peppermint as a cover-up. 

The smell of alcohol was...gone, and truth be told, had it not been for his experience with prior alcoholics and his heightened sense of smell, Steve never would have noticed it. But beneath the bouquet of peppermint Steve could smell blooming on Tony's breath, the stench of alcohol lurked beneath it like a corpse at a funeral, buried beneath flowers to mask a horrendous stench, and he knew it.

He wanted to say something as Tony came up behind him and threw his arms around his neck, nuzzling his face into the bridge between Steve's shoulderblades and smiling against his skin. But the feel of Tony against him, so uninhibited and carefree...for a second, just to appreciate the feel of Tony, Steve let himself pretend it wasn't the alcohol that had made Tony so open with his affection. 

He let himself dream he was in a warm, fresh kitchen just after the war, his first day after getting home and finishing up the parties and ceremonies, and he was cooking dinner for the person he loved...the person he could feel against him, safe and sound and always with him...he let himself dream things had ended all right, and Bucky would be over tomorrow to celebrate with Peggy, and Howard would congratulate him on being a keeper for his son, and...

And so Steve stood there with someone holding him close and tight and yet feeling terribly lost and alone. Because the man holding him now was not himself, and so this embrace...it didn't matter. None of this...none of this mattered. 

Tony wouldn't remember it. So it wouldn't matter to him. And so...and so it didn't matter to Steve, either. He couldn't let it.

Steve closed his eyes and let a few tears trail down his cheeks.

"Don't cry, baby," Tony murmured, and he really was an expert at getting drunk, because there was only the slightest of slur to his words, "I just had some stuff to do in the lab. Not gonna leave you again, mmkay?"

The gentle tone to his voice and the love that shone through it, clear and true as a crystal bell, made Steve throw away everything he had just promised, lost in the sound of what he ached to believe was true happiness and peace.

"Oh, _Tony_ ," he murmured, and the pain in his voice and in his heart was unmistakable but easily ignored, "it's okay. You were just down in the lab. Nothing...nothing else, right?"

"Yeah. Nothin' else." Tony agreed cheerily. "So how about I help you with dinner, Steve? I can carry all the stuff out. I heard everyone traipsing in here with the desserts from upstairs..."

"Yes, they've put everything away by now." Steve said. "From the sounds of things, I think Pepper and Bruce really started something swell..."

"God, I hope so," Tony murmured, and the emotion there was so genuine and true that it simply furthered Steve's delusions of his sobriety, "she deserves something great. She really needs to take care of herself, you know? Enough of me. I have you, Steve. I'll make it out okay." He grinned. "Anyways, I'll grab the potatoes and vegetables if you bring out the lamb and the jelly..."

Without waiting for an agreement, Tony grabbed the bowls and headed into the dining room. Steve stared at his retreating back for a long time.

It had to mean something. It just had to. 

He took the food and followed after Tony, his heart aching with every step.


	40. Who Do I Have to Be?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gets drunk. Steve is not happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took 100k for them to kiss. You guys. You GUYS. I am the biggest cockblocker. THE. BIGGEST.  
> It feels surreal that it's only been a week in-verse for them, though; I mean, so much has HAPPENED, but it really only has been a week! I just...damn.  
> Anyways. If I say anything, I'll spoil it. But--don't worry. Steve's little issues will be elaborated on further later, I swear. Please, please, PLEASE tell me what you thought of this chapter; it's such a big pivotal one that I really must know how you felt about it, if you would be so kind. ^^  
> I hope you like it, though. It's...sad. But good.  
> Also, in regards to history; I had to try to make the timeline make sense, because ow. Steve's dad was in the war too, if I remember Cap right, and it's...just...confusing. So...apologies if this fucks with historical fact a little. I didn't know what else to do!

Everyone settled in around the table as Steve started setting plates down and handing them spoonfuls of everything, more talk going around the table than food for awhile until they tasted Steve's cooking and were subsequently completely floored.

"Shit, I didn't think guys from the forties even knew how to work a stove." Clint said, his cheeks slightly flushed. Proving that the drink had been shared, Coulson just giggled--actually _giggled_ , which made Steve stare for a second--and ruffled Clint's hair. Steve huffed.

"Well, sometimes mom couldn't cook, because..." Steve bit his lip. "Because it doesn't _matter_ why, but she couldn't cook on occasion, so I did." Steve murmured, his throat suddenly tight. "And we didn't have a lot...so you had to get good at stretching what you had. That's why I'm a good cook, that's all."

"Oh, babe." Tony said gently, shaking his head. "I'll buy you whatever you want, y'know. We can eat chocolate truffles coated in edible gold leaf if you want. Sprinkled with ground unicorn horn. Anything." He laughed, shaking his head and biting into the potatoes. "I mean, clearly, you do a damn good job with mundane shit, but I just want to feed you cake. Is that so wrong?" He asked.

"Uhm...no." Steve blushed. "I just...Tony, I hardly think we should saw off a unicorn's horn just for some truffles."

"It grows back." Tony said mildly. "Besides, after I gut them to use their blood in my coffee, what the hell else am I gonna use the horn for?"

Steve actually laughed. Clint just smirked, the wicked grin spreading across his face.

"I gotta few ideas," he teased, "but y'know, you're the one that's gotta explain them to Steve. Fair's fair!" 

"Clint, oh my _god_!" Tony gasped, pretending to be offended and grinning wickedly. "You _slut_. Does Natasha know you use unicorn horns for-"

"For what, Tony?" Steve asked, officially confused. Tony cracked up, tears spilling from his eyes as he shook his head.

"Never you mind, you delicate, innocent virgin, you." He said, waving him off as he continued to giggle. "When you're older, baby."

"Tony...I'm at least twenty at this point, and, err...shouldn't I be almost a hundred by now, technically?" Steve asked, tilting his head. "No offense, but how much older do I have to _be_?"

Tony snorted and shook his head again, putting a gentle hand on Steve's shoulder. Steve didn't like the flush to his cheeks, but for the moment, he wrote it off as mirth and no more. 

"I'll tell you after you'll actually appreciate it." He promised. "Anyways! I am going to wash myself in the blood of the lamb now, and by that I mean give me some leg of Jesus, I'm fucking starving."

"Tony, oh my _god_!" Steve tried not to laugh and found himself unable to do it. "Tony, you don't just _eat Jesus_! That's _disrespectful_!"

"Why not? Catholics do it all the time. Every mass. Transubstantiation or some shit. Give me leg of Jesus, Steve." Tony grinned. "Or is that gonna piss off the angel that does your hair every morning?"

"I...Tony, oh my god." Steve grumbled, giving him a part of the lamb anyway. He wasn't really sure why Tony had decided to pick on Catholics, but it wasn't like that bothered him...it was just that...something had gone _wrong_ with Tony. He was too giggly, too bubbly. 

"It's not an angel, Nat and I decided," Clint suddenly announced, "it's unicorn semen and I won't hear any different."

"No, that would have glitter in it." Bruce mused, his own cheeks red as Clint's. Tony, Bruce, and Clint all began screaming at that, laughing hysterically until Coulson began to giggle again, Pepper biting her cheek to keep from laughing as Natasha cracked a smile. Thor's booming laugh rang out over everyone, and it just made them all laugh harder.

Steve just ran a hand through his hair to make sure there was no glitter in it from anything. He didn't want to give them ideas.

About five minutes later, just after gnawing on his lamb for a few bites, Tony suddenly looked up and blinked.

"I gotta go check on something in the lab." He announced. "Set some mechanical junk on a timer, and if I don't check it periodically, it'll explode."

"Carry on, my wayward son." Clint slurred, accepting another tankard from Thor. Tony just cackled again and headed out the door. Steve was the only one who noticed he gripped the doorframe for a second to steady himself.

...

Tony yanked the bottle of wine out of his jacket and poured himself a glass, grateful the suit jacket he had put on for dinner was just a little too big and had pockets sewn into the insides. 

Part of him felt guilty. But that part was hanging on by a thread at best, and it was easily washed away and drowned in a stream of liquor. So he swigged down a few glasses and sighed, relieved. Not bad for the first course. He'd come down for more later--no sense in getting wasted before dessert. He had missed the taste of alcohol, though...god, it had been one hell of a week, he deserved this...

For a second, as he swallowed, the wine soured in his throat and he thought of Steve. 

Then Tony shrugged it off and washed out the sour taste in his mouth with another glass.

He went back upstairs without much thought to the alcohol on his breath or the slight stumble in his step, right up until he reached the door. Then Tony winced and hastily crunched a mint from his pocket in between his teeth so as to prevent any questions and slipped through the door.

Steve looked up when he came in, but he didn't say anything. Tony could see his eyes, though, and there was something in them that made Tony's heart ache. He wasn't really sure why--his mind wasn't up to piecing it together, truth be told, but he felt so terribly guilty about the whole thing all of a sudden. 

He went over to Steve and planted a clumsy kiss on his forehead, laughing softly as Steve started with shock and looked up at him.

"Loosen up, babe." Tony teased. "I'm paying you back for the reactor, remember?"

"...You didn't have to." Steve murmured quietly. "But thank you. It was a lovely kiss." He said. There was something in his voice that suggested otherwise, but Tony didn't hear it, already collapsing in his chair, content and grinning like an idiot, his eyes seeming to shine with the slosh of amber-shaded alcohol within his irises.

"Right, well, I'm good at those." Tony remarked. Clint snorted. Tony waved his hand about airily, gesturing vaguely at all of them.

"Hush, you know it's true," Tony chuckled. "It's all I'm good for, really. Hard cock, tight ass, soft lips." He snorted. "I'd let you feel, Steve, but I think you'd crush the damn thing if you got a case of the virgin shakes."

Steve stared at him, horrified. From across from him, Bruce began to laugh. Steve wanted to yell at him, to yell at someone--Tony was hurting, this wasn't funny! 

But they didn't seem to notice. Maybe it was the way he said it, and the alcohol...they thought he was joking. Steve knew Tony thought they were just laughing at him, he knew Tony, he had to say something, he--

"But I mean, y'know, whatever," Tony said, interrupting Steve's thoughts before he could quite put them together, "let me tell you, Steve. Kissed a lot of people. Fucked 'em, too." He snorted. "Sorry. Don't want me sayin' fuck, do ya? Sorry, Steve."

Steve didn't know what to say. He kept his mouth pursed into a thin, tight line, so not even a single sob could escape. He couldn't cry. Crying would make everything worse. Crying would earn him a beating...

"But that's all they ever wanted..." Tony said, and he sounded almost wistful. "Y'know, I don't remember some of them. But I know that my body was all they wanted. And they can't even have _that_ anymore, can they?" Tony mused, grinning darkly. "I don't know who really won that one, me or them."

Everyone was giggling at that--even Pepper, who was clearly at least a little drunk, and Steve felt more helpless and alone in that moment than he ever had during the war. At least in the war, he hadn't been fighting alone. At least no one had laughed at the people he was trying to save during the war.

_"I_ won." Steve murmured. "Because it meant you would be here for _me_ , remember? The arc reactor kept you here to be with me..."

Tony looked at him blankly, as if he had never even considered that. Then he burst out laughing, shaking so hard he gripped the table for support. 

"Yeah, sure," Tony agreed, his voice slurring again as he laughed, "kept me here for you. So we could be together." 

He stood up, swaying just a little, and sat on Steve's lap. Steve blushed, and his heart was suddenly in his throat, and he wanted to run, but he knew Tony wouldn't see it like he did, he would think he was rejecting him, and--

"Together." Tony repeated. "Like this. This is together. This is...this is what you want, right?"

Yes, this was exactly what he wanted. Always and forever. Tony in his lap, safe and sound, being held tight and supported against his chest, kept someplace where Steve could shield and protect him and ensure himself Tony would never come to any harm. But not like this. _Not like this._

Steve swallowed and steeled himself, stroking Tony's hair and massaging his shoulders, keeping his voice smooth and soft as he tried to reason with Tony, who just regarded him with whiskey-bright eyes.

"Tony, I think you're not feeling well." Steve said gently. "I don't want you to get sick...why don't we go to bed?"

"Bed? Fuck's sake, Steve, we haven't even had dessert!" Tony laughed at that and laid his head against Steve's chest. "Do you want me on your lap or not?"

Steve ached. Steve wanted to cry and throw something and yell. But he couldn't. He would scare Tony. He was just so scared himself...

"I have to go get the dessert, Tony." Steve murmured. "So not right now, okay?" 

"Oh, okay." Tony said, shrugging casually and blinking, slow and deliberate. "Whatever. No big deal. I've never fucked in public anyway, and I don't feel like starting now. Unless you wanted. I'd do it if you asked, but I would feel dirty after it." He paused. "Wouldn't matter. Already dirty. _Filthy,_ really. _Whore_."

"...Tony..." Steve had apparently lost the power to speak after that. His heart screamed for him to do something, but his hands would not cooperate. Nor would his mouth, which hung just a bit openmouthed as he looked up at Tony. In response, Tony grinned, like he hadn't reached into Steve's chest and ripped his heart out. Not that Steve minded. That had always been Tony's right. _Always._..

"Gonna go check on something in the lab, all right? Be back soon." He said. 

Before Steve could stop him, Tony left the room, only the slightest of stumbles in his step. Everyone else watched silently, not really watching--the alcohol had numbed them, dulled their minds, and so Steve wanted to scream.

He just got up and went into the kitchen to get the desserts.

...

There was a small part of himself that still screamed at him to stop as Tony lifted the bottle to his lips and swigged back what was left within it. That part of him roared back in full force when his eyes fell on the shield still sitting on his work table, but Tony had gotten quite good at ignoring the better part of himself, due in large part to his continued refusal to believe in its existence, and so he managed to finish off the bottle and grin as the alcohol finally began to do its work on him, making him warm and light and all soft edges. 

The reactor's glow was dulled, he felt like he was normal again, and all was right with the world...even from just from a few drinks, really; six beers and a bottle of wine chased with two shots of vodka, and yet Steve was still all huffy about it. Tony chuckled. Probably Prohibition or whatever. He could fix it up, maybe. Take Steve drinking, even if he couldn't get drunk. Then maybe Steve would want to fuck him, and things would be all right. Tony would know where he stood with Steve and how much Steve wanted him. If he was really worth anything to Steve...

Tony grunted with frustration as he surveyed his current alcohol supply. He had, it seemed, drank it all already. That was fine, though, once he thought about it; after all, it was time for dessert, so he would go eat and then make some excuse to grab more after-dinner wine from the kitchen. It was going to be all right.

Tony grinned, delighted with his cunning plan as he made his way upstairs, unbuttoning a few more buttons on his shirt and crunching down on a peppermint, both actions for Steve's benefit alone as he sauntered back into the dining room and sat next to Steve, his hand over the other man's, rubbing slow circles on his skin as Steve used his free hand to sip coffee with a shaking grip on the mug.

"No sweets, Steve?" Tony cooed, tsking lightly. "C'mon. Eclairs are nice. Coat your mouth in cream for a change. Good...good...what's the word.. _.preparations_ , yeah?" He asked, musing aloud more than anything. He snorted and shook his head.

"God, you probably don't even know what I'm talking about. You're so innocent. So sweet." Tony looked like he was about to cry all of a sudden. "What the fuck are you _doing here_? Why are you still _here_? With _me_?" 

Steve looked like he was about to cry too, at this point.

"Because you're my _friend,_ and I like you!" He cried, his voice quavering with panic and fright. "I like you a lot, more than anyone else I've ever met--Tony, please _stop this_ , you're _scaring me_!" He begged. "Let's just go to bed, Tony! I'll--I'll stay in your room if you want, just--please, please _stop_!" 

"S'fine, m'fine, like you too," Tony mumbled, "but I can't go yet. Haven't had dessert." He grabbed an eclair and tore into it, the cream trickling from the corner of his mouth. He stared at it for a second.

"Preparation," he declared, and with that, Tony laid his head down on his arms and began to laugh. Steve just sat there in silence as the laughter turned to soft, hysterical tears. He put his hand on Tony's shoulder, but there was nothing he knew how to say. His stomach was roiling in his body, and he felt ill. 

If he could have, he would have torn the city down for Tony, took on all of S.H.I.E.L.D. for Tony--and he was stopped by a simple glass of wine. In the end, by Tony himself, in fact. 

Steve wanted to rage against the injustice of it all. Finally, he had a battlefield to fight on--but it was one he had never seen, and using weapons he had never fought with. 

Before he could open his mouth to say something, anything to make Tony feel better, Tony had stood up and made his way into the kitchen. It was then as Steve watched him make his way into the room that denial died in his heart and he knew that Tony had been drinking. Even the others, drunk as they were, all seemed to know. They were quiet.

Tony made his way in and knelt in front of the crates, rifling through them until he found that aged, dark beer Thor had decreed closest to Asgardian mead. He grabbed the bottle with unsteady hands, and for a second, seeing Steve's eyes were on him, grinned wickedly and put it in his mouth, mimicking a crude gesture that made a rush of heat flow between Steve's legs just as much as it made his stomach churn. He wanted to look away and cry, but he kept his eyes trained on Tony, hoping some of his pain and pleas to stop would somehow get through to him.

He knew what happened next, of course. He had experience with it. The gentle laughter as they tore open their prize, like a jackal tearing at a carcass, a sigh of satisfaction as it was revealed to them. Then there was the sick, wet sloshing as they moved with it, probably stumbling by this point. Looking. Hunting. 

Steve bit his knuckle to keep from crying out as Tony made his way back into the dining room with a bottle of beer in his hand. He didn't know. He couldn't know. But it was too much. Too much. Too...too much like...

Howard, first. 

Steve had known. God, he hadn't been _blind,_ and he had been aware of the signs, how could he _not_ have been, he _knew_ alcoholics, but--it was a war, he had justified, and _everyone_ was drinking. Everyone was just desperate and harsh and they wanted the hurt to stop. Some bread and roses to go with the mustard gas. 

He hadn't stopped Howard, hadn't said anything, had never said a single word about Howard's drinking, and then it killed him. Steve knew without having to be told that there was a bottle or two of whiskey rolling around in the wreckage when Howard's corpse had been pulled free. 

That was another death on his hands. 

His father had died a slower death, but just as sure. 

The Depression had been a looming specter over most of Steve's childhood. His father had lost a lot of money in the stock market crash, and without any way of paying his debts and no job, he began to lose something inside himself. To be unable to provide for his family made his father a much more different man than he had been before, when sometimes, he would come home with pencils and paints for Steve, passed to him under the table with a wink and a smile, a silent agreement that they wouldn't tell mom about the extra money he spent. 

His father had begun to die the day of the great crash, for certain, but it was watching his wife and son slowly die alongside him that made his heart begin to shrivel up and die within his chest, make him bleak and crippled and grey with hate and self-loathing. There was no way to chase out that demon, created by himself and allowed to fester by the environment around him.

The day Steve came home from the hospital with yet another prognosis that he would live for perhaps another year at best, his face stained with tears and his mother's hand tight on his shoulder, as if by sheer force of will she could keep her son alive and healthy, a bill for the doctor's services clenched in Steve's small, trembling, sickly fist, was the day something deep inside his father snapped.

He slapped the bill out of Steve's hands, and while Steve cried, more out of shock that his father had done such a thing rather than genuine pain, (but oh, how the smack from big hands had ached at his small, brittle bones, breaking him down like a little bird left to die on a roadside), his father berated his mother in tones that made him seem more like a snarling animal than a human, his tones the greasy smoke of hatred that belched from hell, his eyes wild and rabid.

The next day, he went to a speakeasy. 

Steve had let his mother hold him and stroke his hair, even though he was a big boy now and that was supposed to embarrass him, because she had been crying, and there was something in her eyes that Steve hadn't understood until this moment, when he saw Tony in the dining room. It was a complete lack of hope, and a dark grey sense of resignation. To her own fate. To her husband's fate. To the fate of her son. 

It had rained that day, so she had kept him inside, so as not to end up with Steve bedridden with pneumonia again. That was all he had remembered--being trapped inside by what felt like an endless, advancing wall of grey.

He had come home that night reeking of peppermint, and as his mother sat at the table, two plates set for the two of them, in the hopes that he would come home in time for dinner, he had beaten her.

Steve had been a child. Even if he hadn't been sickly and weak and pathetic--if he had been like Bucky, even then, bright and strapping and proud--he would have been able to do nothing. 

The grey trapped him, caged him, condemned him as he heard the soft, squelching splat of his mother's delicate skin hitting the surface of the stew she had prepared. The dripping sounds afterwards couldn't even compare to that one gut-churning noise.

Then the wet, thick sounds of fists on cold, gravy-coated skin began, and for awhile, it was as if Steve was hearing the beating through water, so soft and wet was his mother's skin, so vulnerable her stomach, and so delicate her cheeks as he sat there in his room and cursed his rage for not being potent enough to act despite the weak, skeletal asylum of flesh it had been confined to.

Without warning, his father shuffled off to the couch and fell asleep. Mid-punch, even. The whole house was silent after that.

His mother got up and went to the bathroom. She was in there for an hour. The shower ran for only half of that. Still, Steve did not push her. He waited until he heard the door open and the sounds of her getting dressed in her own room.

After that was finished, he felt his bed depress underneath the weight of another person. Steve didn't say a word--he didn't want to bring anything up that would make his mother cry.

She took him into her arms and kissed the top of his head, stroking his hair.

"I guess now I've got my own war to fight," Anita Rogers remarked, and it was a joke, maybe, but it hurt to hear, and Steve was crying before he knew it, so she wrapped her arms tighter around him, as if in response to his pain, and added, "but don't worry, baby. I don't regret it. I'm fighting for you."

And so she did. 

For ten years, his mother fought for him. Ten years of beatings, of brutalization, of constant belittlement and abuse and vicious attacks. But his father never touched Steve, not where she could see. He couldn't. It was as if even in his alcohol-addled state, he knew that he and Anita were in a stalemate, and if he overstepped the boundaries, all hell would break loose, and the fragile truce, such as it was, would end. 

Ten years later, his father signed up for the war and was killed in his first battle.

Steve took his mother out to dinner that night, even though it was the only money he and Bucky had managed to scrape together for the past two weeks. They had both agreed she had deserved it. 

Then she had gone off to the war, too, and Steve was alone, but that was all right, because he had Bucky, and then--

Well, then everything else happened.

But what mattered most was the time before "everything else;" when Steve hadn't been muscled and strong and immune to any disease, before when no walls could trap him, not even grey ones. That time was when he had learned just how painful resignation to the person you love drinking themselves straight into the grave could be...and it was all that flashed through his mind when he looked at Tony standing there, so small and fragile.

As if to challenge him, Tony went the long way around the table before sitting back in his seat. 

Steve looked around the dinner table and was instantly brought back to a night he could only ever see in shades of grey. The wet sounds of fists on slick skin.

At this point, Tony was too far gone to think about the look on Steve's face, or the clear pain in his eyes. He wanted to drink, and he didn't particularly care who complained about it. He deserved this. He wanted...

Tony drank the entire bottle in front of Steve, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, before setting the dark bottle down gently and humming softly, tunelessly.

He raised a hand, and it had been an innocent gesture, but not for Steve--all there was suddenly was an endless advancing wall of grey and the feel of his mother beside him, her blood on his sheets, her bruises purplish-red underneath the touch of sickly fingers, and he had _known,_ and he _couldn't_ have done anything for his father, and he _didn't_ do anything about Howard, but he _would not do the same for Tony._

The fear was there as he raised his hand, though. The fear of beatings, when his mother wasn't around to see. When she was at the hospital, Steve was at his most wounded. He would have found it funny if he hadn't started screaming. 

Tony looked taken aback. Everyone else had bolted for the corners of the room, the rage of Captain America something none of them evidently wanted to be near. Steve didn't feel it. Steve didn't see it. He was in a state of Zenlike grey, advancing upon him. 

He yanked Tony out of his chair and threw the bottle across the room effortlessly. It shattered on impact with the wall into a thousand pieces of glimmering glass. Tony just stared at him with wet eyes and a sense of confusion about him.

Steve didn't let go of his grip on Tony's wrist. He dragged the other man into the kitchen as, with only a single free hand, he lifted up the entire crate of alcohol--what remained of it, at least--and brought both the crate and Tony to the front door. 

The cool night air hit both of them as Steve took the crate and flung it down the driveway, where it promptly shattered on the gravel, catching the moonlight and glimmering, the wet glass now so innocent with the alcohol soaking into the driveway.

He was silent the entire time. Tony was spitting protests. Steve didn't listen.

He dragged Tony back inside and threw him against the dining room table. It began to splinter from the force of Steve leaning against it. Tony stared up at him, seemingly unperturbed by the whole ordeal. Everyone else watched, all traces of drunkenness gone, and an animal sort of panic starting to set in. 

Steve leaned in close, his eyes wild, his mouth at Tony's ear, his teeth bared. His heart was beating so loud Tony could hear it even through a haze of alcohol, as if being heard through water.

_"Who do I have to be_ to make sure _you never drink again_?" Steve snarled. 

It was both a plea and a demand. Tony knew it, too. The alcohol had left him for a second, long enough to hear it clear as day.

Tony stared up at Steve, his eyes sparkling as a cocky grin flitted across his lips. This was nothing new to him. He was dissembling. Besides, he was too drunk to seriously consider the question.

So, with the bright, cheery bravado that only the drunk ever muster, Tony leaned in even closer and whispered, "My lover."

Steve stopped. 

His heart had appeared to stop with him, he noted. Even that small notation was hazy in his mind. Everything he was had focused on those two little words. 

Tony's...Tony's lover.

He could be. If he wanted.

Tony would accept him. Steve could have him, to hold and to cherish and to take care of and treat right; to stroke and caress and cradle in his arms as he soothed him to a peaceful sleep. He could marry him, maybe, and have the life he had always dreamed of, even before he had ever known Tony.

But...Tony was hurting, and frightened, and still so lost. This hadn't changed anything. This had, if anything, upped the stakes; it was the first time Steve had seen Tony so drunk, so lost in something that wasn't his work--something that could kill him.

He couldn't. He owed it to Tony to save their relationship for a better time, where they could both be healed, whole men, happily wed and settled in for the rest of their lives.

But if he was going to be completely honest with himself, when the hell was that actually going to happen? Not as long as the Avengers Initiative remained standing.

So what were the real choices here? Let Tony think he didn't want him--let that rejection of him here and now fill up all the cracks he had worn down in that wall of self-hatred and loathing, so that even if he tried again in a better place with gentler words, nothing would truly slip through...

Or he could become his lover. He could kiss him and hug him and hold him, and do so much more for him than anyone else had ever been able to, in the only way Tony knew how to understand affection and kindness and trust.

Steve would have to tell Rhodey and Pepper how much he understood, because finally, it seemed, he did. Sure he had done more than anyone else had--but that was all in preparation for this moment. Every other action before this one had been the slow progression up to this point. 

He either said yes and continued on, as Tony had always told him to do, despite being chucked seventy years into the future, or he ground to a screeching halt and let them both die here in one way or another.

Steve made his choice only to discover that his body had evidently wanted to make it for him ages ago.

His mind, however, was a gentleman, and so as he leaned down to kiss Tony, it was a chaste kiss. It was soft and gentle, so sweet and tender that as he pulled back to stroke his hair away from his face, he heard Tony start crying, unused to such contact.

Steve picked him up and cradled him in his arms, surprised at how light Tony really was. He didn't look it, but he was an easy weight to carry. That was good. It meant he could support him easier than he had thought.

His mind still held full sway over his actions--Steve was a gentleman, after all, through and through--and so he left the dining room behind, letting the others sort the rest of the chaos out as he carried Tony up to his room, his grip gentle as he laid Tony down on his blankets before going into the bathroom and soaping up a washcloth. 

He washed Tony's face gently, and when Tony whined in protest, he simply scrubbed a little more insistently until he was satisfied that he was clean enough for the night. Steve wasn't ready to drag Tony into the shower, that much was certain.

After that, he stripped Tony to his briefs and hurriedly dressed him in a pair of silk red pants and a white top. If Tony noticed how quickly he dressed him and interpreted it as anything other than shyness, he didn't say anything about it. He just let Steve dress him and tuck him underneath the covers.

Then Steve leaned down and planted one more soft, chaste kiss on Tony's lips, startling them both.

"Okay." He whispered. "Okay."

Steve left the room with a different kind of resignation in his chest; the resignation of knowing that he had chosen himself an entirely different battlefield to fight on, one he was completely unfamiliar with, to have any sort of chance of saving Tony.

But that was all right, because as his mother had said to him, so many years ago; he had his own new war to fight.

And it was for Tony, so Steve had no regrets. He knew that even now.

Steve turned around to look at Tony one last time before he turned the lights off. He was already asleep, a small smile on his lips.

Steve turned the lights off and went into his room, shutting Tony's door behind him with a gentle click. 

As he fell asleep that night, the only plea he had left was simple; for him to have finally become the man Tony needed him to be. 

From the way his heart leapt when he thought of him, Steve hoped it was true.


	41. Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There isn't much time for things to get better. A fight's brewing now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update to celebrate the actual opening, I think.  
> Thank you so much for all your comments, everyone. I'm...genuinely touched. I can only hope the fic remains as high-quality and powerful throughout. Believe me--I don't let up on the feels. And Steve's past does get elaborated on soon. Ish. Soonish.  
> Anyways; yep, so much for getting through this like healthy people. And that's pretty much it.  
> And the return of Loki!  
> ...Yeah. I'm...not overly fond of Loki right now. But AatA!Loki is a whole 'nother ballgame...so him I still pity.  
> And yes, Pepper's an agent now. She's not like Phil or any of the Avengers, she's sort of more like...they hired her specifically as a handler for the Avengers and that's it. The people who can handle the Avengers are a rare breed indeed, and S.H.I.E.L.D. will do anything to hold onto them. It won't change much about her character, promise.

Everyone else awoke the next morning with a hangover from hell and a call from Fury buzzing insistently on their phones.

Coulson rolled over and grabbed his phone, realizing suddenly that he was on the couch. How had he gotten on the couch...? Hadn't he--

At the thought, all the memories of last night poured out and he winced, suddenly aware of his headache intensifying. No, that couldn't have been what happened. Steve...Steve hadn't...

"Phil?" Clint whimpered, hiding his face in a pillow. "Please pick up your phone so he'll stop calling."

"I've got it, honey." Coulson murmured, stroking his hair. Clint sighed, content, as Coulson took his phone and said quietly, "Director."

_"Phil, I need the team here, now_." Fury said; he sounded insistent, and a little worried. " _I do mean_ all _of them, you and Ms. Potts included._ "

"Wait, Pepper? What?" Coulson managed to ask, despite his currently fried brain. Fury might have smiled. He couldn't tell over the phone.

_"We've already put Ms. Potts on the payroll. It seems her assistance is invaluable, and, truth be told, I need all the help with this little group I can get."_ Fury said. _"Now get them up and get them to Queens. Something's attacking--probably one of Loki's creatures, but who knows_?"

"...All right, sir. We're on our way." Coulson said, hanging up his phone and massaging his temples. He turned to Clint and Natasha, who were slowly stirring on the couch, wide eyes blinking as they rubbed sleep out of their eyes.

"You heard that?" He murmured, keeping his voice low. Natasha sighed and stretched, getting up and grabbing her stingers from where they had been laid out on the floor, zipping up her leather jacket.

"We did." She said. "All of it."

They all dressed in under five minutes--even Pepper, who looked completely confused and more than a little worried, and Coulson had to give her credit for how quickly she rolled with the plan--until, with a pause, they realized who wasn't there with them.

"...So..." Clint began, "who's going to go get those two?"

...

Tony awoke to an empty bed and the taste of Steve's kiss still on his lips.

He looked around, his head pounding. He felt ill. Everything ached. 

He began to whine, insistent and pained, because he was alone in his room, confused and hungover, and he wanted a shower. 

He didn't get a shower, but he did have Steve standing in his doorway, concern written across his face, and that was all right by him.

"Hey." He whispered gently. "Tony, are you all right?" 

"Nnn." Tony whined. "Hurt..."

"I bet." Steve murmured. "Do you remember what happened last night? No wonder you hurt, Tony." He sighed.

Tony sat up in bed, suddenly remembering everything in a sharp snap of memory. He stared at Steve, his eyes wide and his mouth having gone dry all of a sudden.

Then he smiled, delighted, as he remembered how their little encounter last night had ended for them both.

"...Lover." He said, a smile winding across his face. 

Steve looked at him for a second. Tony didn't understand what was going on behind his placid, calm expression and warm eyes, but he didn't care. Steve was his lover now. Steve was going to be with him. Everything was going to be all right.

"Yes, Tony," Steve said softly, a small hitch in his voice as he crossed the room and took Tony into his arms, laying down on the bed and holding him close as he murmured, "yes, your lover." 

They stayed like that for awhile, their eyes closed. Steve finally sat up in bed as he heard someone coming up the stairs.

"Tony?" It was Coulson, and he sounded harried. "Fury needs us in Queens. You up to it?"

"Uhuh." Tony called back, his voice thick with sleep. Coulson sighed, relieved, and without another word, was heading back downstairs, his shoes resounding softly on the creaky steps.

"Are you sure?" Steve murmured in the sudden silence, his lips against Tony's neck. "I don't want you to put yourself in unnecessary danger, sweetheart."

The small nickname, tender and sweet, melted across Steve's lips and made his heart sing. Tony smiled at the sound of it.

"Of course I won't do anything dangerous." He replied. "I have you now, don't I? I've got to come home." He grinned and pecked Steve on the cheek tenderly as he got out of bed.

Steve watched him for a second, getting dressed effortlessly as he called out, "JARVIS, I need the new suit compressed into the case and ready for a fight. Hurry."

_"...Certainly, Anthony_." JARVIS' voice was soft. Tony sighed. He knew that tone of voice. JARVIS wasn't very happy with him--not that he blamed him...

"I'm sorry about last night." He murmured. "I didn't mean to hurt you, or Steve. I just..." He swallowed. "I'm gonna get better now. I promise. And I won't do that to you again, buddy."

There was a soft pause, accentuated only by the whir of JARVIS' systems. 

_"I understand, Anthony, and I forgive you._ " JARVIS said, a note of warmth creeping into the synthetic voice. " _My only wish is to watch you get better at this point._ "

Tony grinned and headed down into the lab without another word, going to grab the armor. He called back to Steve, "I'll get your shield, just get ready!"

Steve didn't want to get ready. He felt terribly guilty for that, of course, because he was a hero, and he had people to help--but he...and Tony...they needed to talk, but it was like--

Steve cursed Fury, even if he felt bad for doing it. He and Tony had to sit down tonight and talk. 

That thought, however, was what kept him buoyant enough to get dressed in a relatively good mood; the idea of sitting on the couch with Tony in his arms, a shared carton of ice cream and a warm blanket covering them both as they talked about how wonderful things would be from now on...

Steve was jolted out of his little reverie when he saw Tony standing in front of him, briefcase in hand and the shield held against his chest. Steve didn't deny the thrill that raced through him at the thought of his shield pressed up against Tony's reactor, keeping his sweetheart safe. Tony smiled, holding it out to him.

"Ready?" Tony asked. Steve nodded. 

Tony grinned and kissed the star on his shield before handing it over to him and running down the steps, the briefcase opening and assembling the armor around him so that by the time they reached the driveway where the team was waiting, Tony was already soaring off into the sky ahead of them.

"So, did you--" Coulson began to ask, but Steve gave him a look that made him shut his mouth as quickly as he had opened it. He would pry later, when Steve wasn't clearly already itching to follow Tony to the fight.

Though, in truth, that readiness almost answered his question.

Coulson couldn't help but smile as he got them all into his car, save Thor and Bruce, who had already bolted for Queens with Tony, and tore off towards where whatever fight they needed to face lay waiting.

...

"So, sir." Maria's voice was quiet as she stood beside Fury, her hands at her sides as her eyes flickered over to meet his, bright and inquisitive. "What about the Captain and Stark?"

"Well, this little creature that showed up was actually a lucky turn of events..." Nick began, making his way down the hallway and towards the labs, Maria following behind him as he continued, "because I am, in truth, curious to see how they treat one another in battle. That's the first thing I'm looking for; how Steve handles himself and Tony in combat. From there, I can see what that week did for the both of them...and where I need to go from here." He hummed quietly as he typed in an access code and a green light flickered over his and Maria's retinas. "Are you concerned, Maria?"

"A little," she confessed, "I'm simply unsure if the process went as quickly as you said it would. I mean...a week, sir? I doubt Steve would give in to a courtship that quickly, especially considering where he's from, period-wise."

"In any other circumstance, I would have to agree," Nick said, making his way down the stairs with her by his side, "but the truth is, Tony is desperate for affection. He needs Steve like a desert needs its oasis, and I think that tilted the scales towards a quicker courtship. Especially if Tony did something self-destructive again--which, considering it's been a week, is a likely possibility." Nick chuckled at that.

"I see." Maria said. "So, why are we going down into the lab?"

"There's a surveillance feed down there as well, you know that," Nick told her, "and besides...there's someone else who I think should see this fight."

Nick disappeared into the depths of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s lab, Maria following behind him.

It took them ten minutes to find where they were going, so complex was the labyrinth of mazes that made up the underground labs, but that was alright with Nick; he had sent orders ahead to set up a live feed of what was going on in the city, so by the time he and Maria made their way in, the show had started up.

"Is he awake?" Nick asked the technicians surrounding him. The head technician--a silver-haired woman whose skin was practically translucent from working underground for so long--nodded, pointing to the chamber they had kept Loki imprisoned in for the week. His eyes were shimmering wetly, and he bared his teeth at Fury like a cornered animal. Fury just looked at the feed on the lab screens.

"Huh." He said. "So it's just starting..." He grinned. "What do you make of all this, Laufeyson?"

From within his cell, Loki snarled. Fury just chuckled and kept watching. He would talk soon enough. Thor was with them.


	42. All American Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fight, a discussion, an injury, and a lover's fury. If only they had just never gotten out of bed that morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, that snake may or may not be Jormungandr, (which I am sure I am probably not spelling right), Loki's son. It's all up to your interpretation, dears.  
> Anyways. Ooh! Cliffhanger! Everyone loves cliffhangers!  
> Haha no you don't I'm breaking your hearts here I'm sure. Ohwell. Cry about it. It sustains my life force.  
> Anyways, so, I need to get back into the hang of fight scenes, I really do. Let me know if this one's up to snuff at all. ^^; It's supposed to be a Curb Stomp Battle on purpose...but even then! Christ I really have fallen out of practice.  
> Yeah I'm just...gonna kick Loki while he's down now. He'll get better later.  
> Anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter!  
> P.S. Writing berserk Steve is totally awesome. Just saying.

Coulson managed to pull up and get them out of the car just in time to see what Fury had called them out for. 

They all stared at the giant silvery snake that was currently coiled around a skyscraper with wide eyes. It hissed, making the ground shake beneath them.

"I know of this creature!" Thor called down to them, alighting on the ground as he clutched Mjolnir in his fist. "It is native to the Jotunheim, but I am not sure how it got here..." He frowned. "I could not sense my brother's magics, either. I suppose it could have gotten in here itself...but there is no way to send it back that I know of." 

"S.H.I.E.L.D. has a few transporter devices that might work." Coulson said. "Pepper and I will go get them. You need to lure it away from any major property. Understood?"

"Sir." Steve agreed, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he saw the serphent uncoil just to look at them, suddenly focusing on them. "Understood--now go!" He said.

Coulson nodded, and without a word, he and Pepper were back in the car, tearing off on their way to base to grab a transporter.

"Thor, does this thing have any weak points?" Clint asked, hefting his bow and grabbing an arrow. Thor frowned.

"I am unsure, but an animal's eyes are always a good place to start," he said, before asking, "can you get onto a high enough position to reach it?"

"Ahuh. Nat, c'mon; you're with me." Clint said. "Steve, I need you to be bait. Can you get the thing out through the streets and over into that construction site two blocks from here? It's the closest place without a lot of people I can think of." 

"I'll do my best." Steve agreed. "Ready when you are."

"Go!" Clint said, bolting for the building as Steve threw his shield at the snake, the harsh clang making him wince as he grabbed his shield in mid-air on the rebound. The snake turned to him and outright roared, its scales rattling as it uncoiled itself from around the building and began slithering over to him. 

Steve started to run, trying not to panic. Panicking wouldn't solve anything, after all, But still, the snake was faster than he had thought, and two blocks was a bit of a distance...

Before he could really work himself into a lather, he heard the whir of jet boots, and without any further warning, Steve had been picked up and held close against Tony's chest.

"Like the new armor?" Tony's voice reached his ears. He sounded amused. "C'mon, Steve. We'll both go. I'm not gonna just leave you where you'll get hurt..."

"Tony..." Steve smiled and held tight to the suit as they flew just beyond the reach of the beast's jaws, Clint and Natasha following behind them, Natasha on its back and trying to shoot it with venom in between the overlapping scales as Clint started to climb up its neck. 

Steve had remembered him mentioning he had been in the circus for most of his childhood, and watching him scale the beast effortlessly, he believed him; Clint made his way up the rippling silver scales without even batting an eyelash, as if he was simply shimmying up a pole to the tightrope. 

"Okay, we're a block away and a little to the left before we can pin this thing." Tony said. "Clint! Hold on, we don't want to get it just yet!"

"I heard you, Stark!" Clint called over the beast's roars. "And hey, congrats, we've all been rooting for you two, I mean--"

" _Not now_!" Steve snapped, giving him a look. Clint grinned at him wickedly, but he fell silent; no one could resist an order from Steve. 

Tony was so close to the construction site, and from behind them, Steve heard Thor and the Hulk from behind them, hammering away at the beast's tail, but it hadn't slowed the creature down; if anything, Thor's touch seemed to enrage it further, and its jaws were getting too close to Tony for his liking.

"Tony, sweetheart, I need you to put me down." Steve demanded. "You're going to get hurt if you keep close to me, and I can't--"

"Steve, you're in even more danger if you're close to the ground and on foot!" Tony snapped. "You stay right where you are, soldier! We're almost there, just let me get closer!" 

Before Steve could protest, the massive construction site loomed in front of them and Tony zoomed through the entrance, the massive snake following behind him. 

_"Now_ , Clint!" Tony called. "Thor, I need you over here! We're gonna need someone who knows how to deal with this thing pretty soon--Pepper and Phil are on their way!"

"Aye!" Thor agreed, throwing Mjolnir at the snake's skull, making it roar with pain and sway wildly, suddenly stunned. Clint sighed with relief, finally able to make his way up the rest of the snake without it attempting to buck him off.

"Okay, so...no sign of any weak points, and there doesn't seem to be much I can do near the neck..." Clint sighed. "Hell with it. Hope you like eyepatches!"

With that, he jammed an arrow into the eye socket of the snake until only the fletching was visible.

The snake roared in agony and fell to the ground, hitting the steel beams along the way as Clint grabbed Natasha and the two leapt off its falling body and to the ground beside the others.

"Did that work?" Clint asked. Thor gripped his hammer and frowned, steadying himself.

"I am uncertain." He said. "If this truly is a magic creature, then it shall be hard to kill. We ought to consider ourselves in possession of a temporary reprieve." He sighed. "Regardless, we have a moment to regroup; we have caused it considerable harm. Anthony! Call Pepper!" He demanded. "We will need your Midgardian transporter technology."

"Already on it." Tony said, the suit humming softly as he made the call. 

...

From within the depths of the laboratory, Fury watched the feed impassively with Maria beside him.

As he caught the scene unfolding in front of him, Loki screamed at the top of his lungs in agony, as if he was a mother that had just had her child ripped from her arms and slaughtered in front of her. 

At the sound of his scream, Fury chuckled, amused, and turned back to Loki, raising an eyebrow. 

"Something wrong, Laufeyson?" He asked, unable to keep the almost mocking lilt out of his voice. Loki, paler than snow, eyes wide and wet with unshed tears, simply bared his teeth at him. It was different than before--there was a certain kind of rage behind it that made Fury back off. He said no more.

Loki sobbed silently after that, a single arm wrapped around his belly protectively, his hand massaging the skin comfortingly as tears slipped down his cheeks and turned to ice as they hit the floor.

...

From upstairs, Coulson yanked what looked like a white disc inlaid with gold off of the shelves of the S.H.I.E.L.D. armory, beckoning to Pepper as he grabbed himself a gun and pushed one into her hands, bolting downstairs, his face pale and his eyes alight with passion.

"You're worried about Clint and Natasha, aren't you?" Pepper said as they got back in the car, observing his bearing and wild eyes carefully. He just nodded, his lips set in a thin, pale line. She sighed. 

"Good. I'm worried about Bruce. I'm glad...that I'm not just being overemotional or something." She confessed. "C'mon. We gotta go."

"We do." Coulson finally said, tearing out of the parking lot like the back of the car was on fire. Pepper just gripped the gun, her jaw set as they headed for Queens. Both of their hands were shaking the whole way there, but, in respect to each other's skill at handling this sort of thing, neither of them acknowledged it.

...

Tony grimaced inside the suit. Nothing was transmitting; either Pepper must have had her phone off, or they were driving through a dead zone.

"Nothing's working, guys!" Tony said. "The suit isn't picking up on Pepper's phone!"

"Try Phil," Natasha suggested, "he will be worried about Clint and I, so his phone should be on."

"Got it." Tony agreed, dialing Coulson's number. Beside him, Steve gripped his shield and observed the snake, nervous. He had never fought a creature like that before...to be honest, it was a little frightening. Not that he would ever _tell_ anyone that.

Steve, being the sole person watching the snake, only noticed it stir the second its good eye opened, and by then it was too late. Tony was far too focused on dialing Coulson to notice as the snake rose up, and with a massive, vicious tail, it slammed into Tony, throwing the Iron Man suit halfway across the construction site before it plummeted into the ground, skidding the rest of the way across the dirt before it slammed into the concrete walls surrounding the construction site.

Steve's heart stopped and his mind shut down entirely. Once he could see again, everything was bathed in crimson across his vision, rage choking his perception.

Everyone else stared in horror as a car pulled up beside them, tires squealing. Coulson and Pepper got out of the car, guns raised. Coulson held the transporter disc in his free hand, looking around and gauging the scene.

"What happened?" Pepper asked. " _Where's Tony_?" 

In response, Steve roared.

Terror stopped all of their hearts as Steve, eyes wild with fury, took the edge of his shield and stabbed it through the snake, cutting it down to the bone with a crimson shield-edge. His eyes were mad and his teeth were bared in fury as silvery-red blood dripped from his face. He beat at it savagely with his shield as the snake thrashed and screamed in a voice too human to be comfortable with. He drove the shield edge throughout the snake's underbelly, leaving massive gashes in his wake before he slammed it into the snake's head, collapsing part of its eye ridge and making it roar with pain, collapsing to the ground, spasming helplessly as blood gushed over their feet.

The threat dealt with, Steve was off before the team could even collect themselves and try to stop him, screaming Tony's name and bolting for the twitching, pulsing crimson and gold wreck that was the Iron Man suit. 

No one knew what to say about Steve. _None of them_ had seen him so angry or so deadly, not _ever_. It was...frightening, almost, to see the warm, All-American hero they all knew from history and as a friend suddenly morph into a berserker half-mad with lover's fury, effortlessly dealing with a massive threat and shrugging it off to defend his mate. They all just stood there for a second and watched.

Coulson, hands shaking, was the first to compose himself enough to press the disc against the snake, which had fallen again, spasming as it lost rivers of blood that flowed around their feet. The snake twitched one last time as the disc began to glow, but as Thor supplied the disc with an additional crack of lightning energy, the white light surrounded the snake and sent it back where it had come from.

...

Back at S.H.I.E.L.D., Fury watched intently now, ignoring the fact that the snake had been dealt with in favor of looking at Steve and Tony, his real prize. Maria simply raised an eyebrow. 

Loki watched from behind them as the snake was sent back to where it belonged. He closed his eyes, the tears drying up from within him as he sighed, relief washing over him as he steadied himself and smoothed his face into a pale, expressionless mask. 

It occurred to him then that he would be suffering, the little snake. The Captain had wounded him after his confrontation with the Captain's shieldbrother. The man with the eyes of a hawk had harmed him as well...

Loki sighed, suddenly feeling very worn out. His throat ached in anticipation of what he was about to do, but he ignored the pain and opened his mouth.

The song was quiet, unable to be heard by human ears. It was a song meant for the World Tree, Yggdrasil itself; to pass through its roots and travel through the realms, making its way to the intended recipient. 

Within the cold, harsh Jotunheim, a trembling, blood-soaked snake lay on the ground, waiting quietly to die. 

Before he closed his eyes, however, a song reached him. It was a song he had known before, once...he could not remember where, but he recognized it for what it was.

The lullaby calmed him down, soothing him to a deep, dreamless sleep as his wounds slowly began to heal. Before he fell asleep, however, he sent a soft, growling tune back the way the lullaby had come, in the hopes that whomever had sung to him would hear his song in return and know his gratitude.

Realms away, Loki opened his eyes as the song reverbrated throughout his whole body, starting in his belly and moving throughout him, making him feel warmer and safer than he had ever since he had fled to Midgard. 

He closed his eyes and smiled. It was not the promise of Thor. But it was the first time anyone had expressed gratitude for his actions in a long time...and that was something.

Ignorant of what had just transpired, Fury continued to watch as Steve made his way to Tony's side, his roars of rage resounding throughout the lab. Maria raised an eyebrow.

"Sir," she began hesitantly, "are you sure this is the sort of result you wanted?"

Nick laughed, shaking his head.

"Oh no, Maria," he told her, "this has gone beyond my wildest dreams. No...this _isn't_ what I wanted. I didn't even _dare_ want something as perfect as this." He grinned. "Maybe we should celebrate."

Maria just nodded in agreement as they kept watching.


	43. Ten Miles an Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve can't drive. Phil tries to get a taxi. There's a problem with the suit that will come back to bite them later, and _how._ Loki gets kicked while he's down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki feels soon, soon. Maybe another three, four chapters? You'll see what happens to him soon, promise!  
> Haha Steve can't drive for shit, this is just my headcanon, but; like, he can drive a tank or an ATV just fine, it's just that modern cars are all modern and he just freaks out so Tony has to install a chip in his cars so JARVIS can drive with him and deliver help and advice in a very dry, world-weary British accent.  
> Also Tony's hurt so he's just...being careful and gentle, as best he can.  
> Poor Phil's car, though. It had a good run. Then Tony bled all over it. He'll just buy him a new one.  
> And yes, Nick Fury is cray-cray enough to high-five people in the midst of ruining other peoples' lives. It's how he rolls.  
> Plus, honestly? Maria's his morality pet. Not that she's much better than him, but...he has genuine respect for her and treats her kindly. It's just...everyone else.  
> P.S. Yes you're going to get hints of Victoria/Maria because _I need my lesbians_ and they're my OTP and you will take my feels for them and LIKE IT.  
>  Anyways, hope you enjoy the chapter!

Steve finally reached Tony's side and frantically checked for a pulse until he realized he was still trapped in the smoking, twisted suit. The shock insulators he had built in had done their job, but he could hear Tony moaning in pain from within the suit, and he knew they hadn't done enough.

"Tony, honey, please hang on." Steve whispered, his tone gentle and delicate as he placed his hand on the faceplate of the suit. He didn't need to take the helmet off yet; the body looked the most damaged, he could have broken ribs- _-Tony--_

Steve swallowed his panic and gripped the smoldering suit. 

"You're going to be all right," he promised, "but you have to trust me. And...I'm sorry about this. In advance."

With that, Steve tore off the front of the chestpiece with his bare hands and threw it aside. 

That got everyone back into action, and they began calling his name, bolting for the two of them and trying to get Steve to stop. Steve didn't hear them, focused on getting Tony out of the mangled suit.

He sang a soft, gentle lullaby that he remembered from his mother while he worked, his powerful hands careful as the finest brush of a feather while he tore the suit from Tony's bleeding, battered body. The chestpiece was completely removed and set aside; then Steve took apart the arms, the repulsors taken out carefully so as not to cause whoever transported the suit back home any damage if they misfired, and with a grunt of exertion, Steve had just begun to pry the boots free when the others surrounded him.

"Steve, honey," Pepper began, "I know you think you're helping, but Tony--Tony just made that suit, he's already going to have a lot of repair work to do, and tearing it apart isn't going to make it easier on him..."

Steve looked at her, dried blood on his face and a quietly smoldering fury in his eyes.

"Is _that_ what you think matters, Pepper?" He asked. "I don't believe that. You know better. You know the _real_ Tony--you know why I'm doing this."

"Steve, please..." Pepper sighed. "Look, he's already unconscious; let's just get him to the hospital and get you all home. They'll get the suit off more carefully than just your bare hands--"

Steve cut her off with a low, vicious growl. Pepper stopped where she was immediately, surveying him carefully. No, he wasn't going to listen to reason; he was too far gone.

"I don't _care_ about Iron Man." Steve snarled, and the low, rough note to his voice made them all shudder. "I want _my Tony_ to be safe. If _Tony Stark_ is safe and sound, he can always make another Iron Man suit. But there will _never_ be another Tony, and it's _him_ I'll defend with my life, at _all costs._ " He put shaking hands on the last piece of the suit and removed it carefully, tenderly, as he stroked the bloodied skin beneath.

"Because he's _mine,_ " Steve murmured, soft and sweet, "and _I love him_. Not the suit. I'll keep _him_ safe. He can always make another suit...but I'll never be able to remake _him_. Not if he gets hurt." Steve took Tony's hand and lifted up the faceplate as he spoke, looking at Tony's bloodied face and wincing. He left a tender kiss on Tony's forehead and picked him up as he took off the helmet entirely. 

"We need to get him to the hospital." Steve murmured. "And, well, he...he carried me here. The least I can do is take him the rest of the way."

Before any of them could say anything, Steve was bolting for the car, settling Tony carefully in the backseat and buckling himself in before he turned the keys in the ignition and drove off.

The entire team stared at the retreating car, on route to the closest hospital, eyes wide and jaws agape. That was the first time they had ever heard Steve confess so honestly and openly, and it shocked all of them...but there was another thing weighing on their minds as well.

"Hey, Phil..." Clint began hesitantly, "did you ever teach Steve how to drive a modern car?"

Eyes wide, face pale, and trying so desperately not to scream, Coulson shook his head.

There was a beat between the two of them.

"...I'll go hail a taxi." Clint said, leaving before things got crazy.

...

The truth was, though, that considering Steve was driving at perhaps ten miles an hour, so as not to jostle Tony's injured body, the team just walked behind the car, feeling both mortified and deeply amused by the situation as a whole.

"I still have a lease on that." Coulson muttered. Natasha put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently.

"My love, we will buy you a new car if we must." She said solemnly. "I am more worried about Fury...he has yet to contact any of us about the end of the mission. That is not normal..."

"You're right," Coulson murmured, "and I'm sure it's because he's got something planned...but there's nothing I can do." He sighed and massaged his temples. "I still think we should call an ambulance."

"Do you want to make some poor EMT wrestle Tony away from Steve? _I_ don't." Clint said. "I terrorize _interns_ , not trained medical technicians. _They_ have syringes." 

"...Point." Coulson sighed. "Well, the hospital is just up the road...I guess we'll just have to hold on a little longer."

Bruce sighed and wiped some blood off his face, gesturing down to his bare chest.

"Any chance of a clothing store near there, too?" He asked. "I really should just stop wearing shirts when I go fighting."

"Well, I think that would be a horrible, terrible tragedy, worthy of lamenting in the streets, but I believe with emotional support, I might be able to pull through that dark time." Pepper remarked, a small smile playing across her lips. Bruce blushed and edged away from her a little, suddenly skittish. 

Coulson ignored them both as his eyes caught the familiar white building up ahead. He sighed in relief and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Steve!" He yelled, hoping Steve could hear him from behind the bulletproof car doors and windows. "Pull in ahead! We'll get there and let them know you're coming!"

"Man, what does it say about his driving that we can literally outrun him?" Clint remarked five minutes later, bolting through the hospital doors with the rest of the team in tow. Natasha huffed.

"I would much rather the Captain, with both all his strength and inexperience behind the wheel, be a slower driver than a fast one." She remarked. Clint nodded.

"Point." He agreed.

...

From behind the wheel of the car, Steve gripped the steering wheel tight and clenched his teeth. He was so scared it felt like he was going to throw up, and every time he heard Tony whimper and sob with pain in the backseat made him want to pick Tony up and run the rest of the way to the hospital. Still, he reminded himself of the fact that he would only aggravate Tony's injuries that way, and with the reactor, that was not something he wanted to do...

"Tony, baby, you're going to be okay..." Steve cooed lightly, trying to keep his tone gentle as he continued, "it's going to be all right, sweetheart. I'm going to get you to the hospital and take care of you. You're going to be okay. I'm right here, baby. Ssh. It's okay. I know it hurts. Hush, Tony. I'm right here. It will stop soon..."

Tony whimpered with agony, barely able to turn his head. Blood had dried across a huge gash across his forehead and gotten in his eyes; the tears of pain he couldn't keep down mingled with the dried blood and left scarlet marks on his skin as his wet, bright eyes met Steve's. 

"Steve..." He whispered, clearly lacking the strength to say anything more. It broke Steve's heart and made him whimper quietly with pain himself, his heart aching as he reached back with a single hand and took one of Tony's bloodstained hands in his own, squeezing gently.

"It's okay, Tony..." Steve shushed him, keeping his voice soft and low. "You're okay. You're okay, baby. Rest. Please rest. I'm right here. I'm going to keep you safe. I've got you."

Tony closed his eyes and shuddered, a deep, wracking breath filling his chest. 

"...Armor..." He murmured. 

Before Steve could ask him why now, of _all times_ , he was worried about the _armor,_ his phone rang. He growled quietly with frustration but as his eyes fell on the caller ID, he knew he had to answer.

Sighing in annoyance, he let go of Tony's hand with the utmost resistance to the idea and picked up the phone.

"Director Fury." He greeted him, doing his best to keep his voice polite. "What's the situation, sir?"

" _I heard about your victory over the snake._ " Fury told him. " _Congratulations are in order, Captain. Quite a jump you've made; from H.Y.D.R.A. soldiers to giant Norse snakes. Any man would be overwhelmed._ "

"Thank you, sir, but...how did you know that?" Steve asked. "We only transported it back recently."

There was a low, rough laugh on the other end of the line all of a sudden, one that made the hairs on the back of Steve's neck stand on end. 

_"Son, I think the first thing you're going to have to get used to about me is that I have eyes everywhere."_ Fury said, keeping his tone dissonantly peaceful and almost educational. Steve gripped his phone a little tighter.

"I see, sir. At any rate, if you want a mission briefing, I'm afraid that right now, I'm unable to give you one--I'm a bit busy at the moment. I will have a full report ready for you when I get back to base, sir, but right now I have other things I need to take care of." Steve said coolly.

Back at base, it took all of Nick's self-control not to actually high-five Maria in the lab. He was the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.; he had standards to uphold. He didn't want to give Barton any ideas about whom he could and could not high five.

" _Forgive me for asking, Captain, but what might those things be? After all, you and I both know your first loyalty is to S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Initiative."_ Nick said, keeping his tone as level and measured as possible.

"Forgive me, sir, but..." Steve was about to give him another tidbit of information, that much was clear, and so Nick listened up immediately, ears practically physically pricking up as he prepared to memorize whatever was going to be said.

Back in the car, Steve sighed and looked back at Tony, injured and shivering in the back seat. His heart ached for him and he put a hand over the phone long enough to murmur, "Please hold on, sweetie," before he turned back to Fury.

"Sir, Iron Man was injured in a surprise attack by the snake. We thought it was unconscious, and before we could get Tony out of the way...well..." Steve swallowed. "It damaged the armor, sir. I thought it might have hurt the reactor, and...I...I am en route to the nearest hospital so that he may receive medical care, sir. I'm sorry, but that comes before any debriefing or paperwork!" Steve was unable to keep a sudden sharp edge out of his voice as he gripped his phone. "Tony is not going to get hurt and go untreated for his injuries, regardless of how severe, so long as I am commander of this team!" 

In the back seat, Tony moaned softly, his eyelids fluttering open at Steve's words. He looked at the Captain for a minute through a haze of pain.

Then he smiled and closed his eyes again, his breathing slow and peaceful.

Back at base, Fury was grinning from ear to ear. He hadn't expected Steve to be that besotted, or Tony that susceptible to affection...this was one of the few times his plans went better than he estimated them to, and he was going to _enjoy_ it, damn it.

" _Steve, I know._ " Nick said, trying not to let his smile show in how he spoke. _"Listen, I've already sent S.H.I.E.L.D.'s medical squad to the hospital nearest you. They're trained to deal with the reactor and any other damage unique to your team and their little..._ idiosyncrasies _."_

"Really? Thank you, sir!" Steve said, unable to keep the genuine delight out of his voice. It simply made Nick feel ever more triumphant.

_"It's no trouble, Steve. You know that we've all got Tony's best interests at heart...myself included, of course. But you can make him_ act _on them, can't you_?" Nick let himself chuckle this time. _"Clever boy. Keep it up."_

"I...I _intend_ to, sir." Steve murmured. Nick wanted to scream for joy at this point, but he managed to compose himself long enough to deliver one last message.

_"Now, Steve, you know that I'm going to expect a report on your week residing with Tony, remember? I think it can wait until he has been dropped off safely, but I'm..._ curious _...to see how it went. It will be important for the future."_ Nick said. Steve nodded.

"I'm sure, sir. I won't let my paperwork fall by the wayside..." He laughed nervously. "But, um, I'm afraid I should probably get off the phone for the time being. I have Tony in the car, and we're going very slowly...but Coulson said talking on your phone is dangerous when you're driving." Steve grinned sheepishly. "Also, I'm not entirely sure how to drive this thing."

_"I'll leave you to Tony's care, Steve_ ," Nick said, " _and please, do hang up your phone. I don't want two accidents on my hands. You're dismissed."_

"Thank you, sir!" Steve said, and from the way he spoke, Nick could tell he was itching to salute him. He hung up and put his phone down.

For a second, he and Maria looked at each other.

Then they both high-fived, crowing with delight.

"I cannot even begin to tell you how _perfectly_ your idea came out, Hill." Nick said, clapping her on the shoulder. "There'll be a check in your office for you when you leave tonight. Consider it a bonus. Take you and your girlfriend out to dinner tonight and propose; we're already on a roll as it is. Might as well hope for our luck to continue."

" _Sir_!" Maria hissed. "You--"

"I know everything." Nick said, amused. "Besides, the ring was in your office cabinet. Exactly how in the _hell_ did you think I wouldn't know?"

Maria blushed, saying nothing.

"...Do you think those two will end up..." She suddenly ventured hesitantly, letting herself trail off. Nick chuckled.

"Somewhere in my wildest dreams, perhaps." He said, shaking his head. "No, Tony won't make it that easy. But...Steve is persistent...and maybe Tony's more of a desperate whore than I thought." He laughed. Maria looked slightly uncomfortable, but she managed a small laugh as well.

Before Nick left, he made his way over to Loki's quarters and met the trickster eye to eye.

"How does it feel to be _outmaneuvered,_ Laufeyson?" He asked, keeping his tone polite and almost genial. "I'm not like your big, brutish brother. Your parlor tricks are _nothing_ compared to me." He smiled. "Just thought you should know."

Loki snarled at him.

"I _hate_ my brother," he said, and they both knew it was a lie, but Fury let him speak it anyway, "and even in the midst of my utter contempt for my _oaf_ of an adopted sibling, I can see that he is a far greater man than you. At least he plays no games with the hearts of men!"

"See, you're simply angry because _my_ games happen to end in my _victory_ , Laufeyson." Nick said. "Enjoy your stay in the lab."

He waved to him amicably, as if they were good friends, and left with Maria following behind him. For a second, she looked back at Loki and looked almost contrite. 

Then she shut the door and left him alone.


	44. Hospital Beds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The doctors show up. Steve is not happy. Neither is Phil. No one really is, in all honesty. Steve protects Tony and Pepper takes care of everyone else, Phil included.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Athena Danvers initially was just a cheeky way for me to slip in a little reference to Carol Danvers, because Captain Marvel is my homegirl, but...then oops she became a character I really liked. She shows up later on because of that. Anyways, yes, Coulson gets migraines. My friend and her migraines were the inspiration for that...though I think it really suits Phil, in a sad, sucky way. Also Pepper is the best. The end.

Steve finally pulled up to the hospital and sighed with relief, seeing Pepper standing out front, her knuckles white where she gripped the fabric of her skirt. He pulled into the parking lot and opened the door, heart breaking all over again at the sight of Tony.

Steve managed to steel himself regardless, taking Tony into his arms gently; he was so careful that Tony even stayed asleep, undisturbed by his relocation. Steve kissed his forehead and made his way up to the entrance, meeting Pepper at the doors. She put her hand over her mouth, tears in her eyes.

"Oh, god," She whispered, "I've only been doing this a day, and I don't know how Coulson can _stand_  it--I just, Steve, I--I don't think I can handle watching you, and Tony, and--and _him_ \--not when you're in danger, not like that, I..." She trailed off and straightened up, her jaw set as she met his eyes.

"Regardless, we've already gotten inside. Bring him in, Steve." She said, her tone suddenly sharp and strong. Steve kissed her forehead with the same gentle, soothing touch he used when Tony was having the same nervous breakdowns as she.

"Pep, please relax," He said quietly, "we're all going to be okay. I'm here to take care of Tony now, and you can go tend to Bruce. We all got roughed up today." He murmured. Pepper nodded.

"Yes, of course." She murmured. "Just...give me a moment. I need to steady myself."

"Understandable," Steve said, "but please don't worry." His grip tightened on Tony, just a little. "I'm taking care of him. He's going to be all right. I'll see to it."

Pepper watched him go in with a small smile on her face, pride unmistakable in her eyes. She let his devotion comfort her and support her as she steadied herself so as to be able to go back in there and help the weak and the wounded without becoming one of them herself.

...

Steve blinked, surprised, when eight people in white smocks and blue rubber gloves surrounded him. He didn't protest yet, however; he was simply curious.

Then they put their hands on Tony. 

He snarled, suddenly vicious, taking Tony and darting away, holding Tony as steady as possible. Strangers. Strangers trying to take Tony from him. He was going to take care of Tony. He--

"Captain Rogers, sir, it's an honor to meet you." One of them stepped forward; a woman, easily six feet tall with a sheet of blonde hair that fell in her wake and ice-grey eyes. "My name is Athena Danvers. I lead S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Initiative Medical unit. Please, I'm here to help Tony." She pointed to the arc reactor. "I'm sure he's told you the ins and outs of it, but I know how to take care of it when he is injured...and no offense meant, Captain, but I think I have more skill as a surgeon and a trained doctor than you do."

"Perhaps," Steve agreed, managing to keep his voice pleasant, "but I request that I be allowed in with you and your team to oversee his care, Doctor Danvers. I know the arc reactor, sure--but more than that, I know how to calm Tony down and keep him from leaving before his treatment is over." Steve smiled ruefully. "I believe Tony's the type to bolt before such things are done."

"He is that," Athena agreed with a warm smile, "I've had to do physicals with him before, and he'll bolt the second my back is turned. I don't mind you being in there, Captain. I'll take whatever assistance I can get to calm him down." She pointed to the hallway behind her. "Last door on the left; that's our room for right now. Is Tony asleep?"

"Yes, ma'am," Steve said, following behind her, adding hastily, "there was no sign of a concussion, so I let him sleep."

She nodded, opening the door to reveal a sterile operating room, pristine and cold. Steve swallowed despite himself, fear gripping his heart a little at the thought of Tony laid out in such a place.

Then he smiled and took Tony's hand as he set him down on the table. He wouldn't be alone. That at least would count for something...

"We ought to sedate him now, while he's asleep," Athena suddenly said, her voice in his ear as she stuck a syringe in his arm, adding, "if we're not looking at a concussive blow, I'm going to need to make sure nothing damaged the reactor or his heart. Stay with him, Captain; that's the best thing you can do right now."

"It's the _only_ thing I can do right now, ma'am," Steve said, "but thank you anyway." He held Tony's hand tight as Athena nodded curtly and called for the X-ray machine to be brought in.

...

Outside, Coulson was beginning to feel more than a bit uneasy. He hadn't expected S.H.I.E.L.D., and as the commander of the Initiative forces, he should have been alerted to any and all S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel related to the Initiative in the hospital. Standard operating procedure, after all. Which meant something was going on...something he knew meant trouble.

Natasha sat beside him quietly. Clint was currently getting looked over; the scales had been sharp, and there were a few cuts on his hands. Hopefully nothing that would require stitches, but Coulson was going to have a talk with him about keeping away from target practice for a day or two and buying him a nicer, thicker pair of gloves. They were both on edge from that alone; the presence of the Initiative's personal medical team simply worried them further.

"...They are here on Fury's orders." Natasha said. It wasn't a question. Coulson nodded anyway. She sighed and curled up so she could rest her arms on her knees and her chin on her folded arms, looking over at him, distraught.

"Phil, far be it from me to decry the overwhelming power of love and affection, but I do not believe it is safe for the two of them to be like this..." Natasha murmured. "It is only going to lead to something far beyond their capacity to handle. Perhaps even beyond the capacity of the team as a whole to handle. And if these obstacles come from the Director himself...who do we fight, Phil? How can we save Tony from another man who is supposed to be a hero himself?" Natasha demanded.

Coulson pulled her into a tight, comforting hug, stroking her hair gently and sighing, shaking his head as he let her crawl into his lap and curl close. 

"I know it isn't safe...but from what I remember of the night before, Steve had no other choice. It was that, or Tony was lost to him--to all of us--forever, and better that they are together in strife than alone even beyond that." He said. Natasha did not look convinced. He kissed her forehead. 

"Sweetheart, you're right. They probably won't be able to handle much of this on their own. But this team is another story. We'll all protect them...somehow." He sighed. "I wish I could tell you I knew how, but...that's going to take time. I need time, Nat. But I know that I'm not going to let any of you get hurt. Tony included." His eyes sharpened as he met her gaze. 

"And if that means we fight heroes, we fight heroes," he said, "and if we have to leave S.H.I.E.L.D. behind, we have to leave S.H.I.E.L.D. behind. This isn't about S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore; this is about the Avengers. Us. _Together_." He massaged his temples. "And I can already feel a migraine coming on for it."

"I believe it is best if we go home, then," Natasha said quietly, "because you know if they get out of control that you will be out of commission for a day or two. We need you, Phil, and we can't lose your guidance for even a few days. We need to get this under control _now_."

"Clint _needs_ us," Coulson protested, despite the sudden throbbing agony in his temples, because he _knew_ how much the archer hated hospitals, hated being looked over by doctors, hated being sewn up after a battle by someone he didn't trust, so he added, "you know I wouldn't leave you alone here, either. We have to..."

"You two have to go home." Pepper snapped, grasping his shoulder. Coulson jumped; he hadn't heard her come in. She looked much more focused and a lot less frightened than she had when they had arrived. She met Natasha's eyes; the two women regarded each other warmly for a second, and the understanding between the two, whom had taken a lot of stubborn men home to rest in their time, was an almost physical bond as Pepper began to steer Coulson towards the door.

"You're of no use to Clint if you're lying prostrate on the floor and screaming bloody murder because the fluorescent lights are aggravating your migraine, and you're not going to be of much help to the team if you're knocked out for two days." Pepper berated him. Phil grumbled a vague protest, but Pepper had experience with Tony's more pithy, caustic protests, and as such, ignored him easily.

Evidently done with yelling at him, she turned to Natasha, and the ease with which she communicated with the woman would have made Coulson laugh had he not been in agony. 

"I've got the debriefing, I've got care of the team, I'll make sure Clint knows where you are and have him out of here as soon as possible, so you are taking Phil home, because god only knows men don't seem to quit when they need to." Pepper said. Natasha smiled.

"I know you can take care of the team," she said, "and I will trust you with command." She gave her a look, one that radiated subtle amusement, and added, "besides, I believe you have enough experience dealing with stubborn men to get them all through this all right."

"Damn right." Pepper said cheerfully. "Now go, I'll send photocopies of the paperwork to you. Don't let Phil get his hands on them until he can see straight."

Natasha nodded. Within another two minutes, they were gone, and Pepper's heart was pounding, amazed at what she had just pulled off. 

She had about a minute to appreciate her triumph before she turned around to see Bruce and her heart stopped.


	45. The Oncoming Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation with feelings. A homecoming. The storm brews.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for those of you wondering about Loki...well. Your wish shall be granted soon!  
> Anyways, yeah, the more I write Pepper/Bruce, the harder I ship it, it's awesome. I will convert you all to my weird-ass OTPs and you'll like it!  
> Aaand that's mostly it for this chapter. Not much to say.  
> Save for this: uh, happy birthday Tony, apparently! I might put a giftfic up if I've got time.

Bruce stood in front of her, shirtless and bloodstained, his eyes clouded over with nervous panic, and he looked so lost and alone that Pepper couldn't help but reach out to him for a second before jerking her hand away.

The two of them stared at each other for a minute.

He didn't know what to say to her. His heart was beating against his ribcage, as if to reach out to her only to be stopped by the confines of his chest, and he felt practically ill with nerves.

"Hey," he finally said, his voice soft and pained, "I'm sorry about today. I know it's...it's...a lot to take in."

"What?" Pepper tilted her head and gave him a look; the confusion in her eyes was genuine, which only confused him even further as she added, "Bruce, what are you talking about?"

"The _Hulk_ , Pep," he said, and he hadn't meant to snap but he could hear his own voice and how harsh it sounded, "the monster in me I never wanted you to see, and I--if I'd known Nick was going to bring you along, I wouldn't have--wouldn't have _fought_ , because I--"

"You're really worried about that, aren't you." Her voice was soft. She hadn't asked him. He nodded anyway; she knew it was the truth. She just looked at him for a minute. He couldn't read anything on her face, and it worried him even more.

"When I saw you like that..." She sighed, as if unsure how to continue, venturing on hesitantly, "it wasn't _you,_ not really. At least, I didn't look at the Hulk and see you. Not the way you think I must; like you're some kind of monster." Pepper ran a hand through her hair.

"Yeah, I'm going to be upfront with you; seeing the Hulk in action is...is something else. But truth be told, I just don't see him as you, so it doesn't make me fear you. That person out there fighting isn't you. Not the you that you try so hard to be..." She trailed off as Bruce grinned, his expression wry.

"And that me would be?" He asked. He would not allow himself to hope. That was too much at this stage. But she had not run, and that was something. Pepper shrugged.

"The man who's willing to take care of someone else who doesn't take care of themselves. Just because he thinks they deserve it. Even when he doesn't have anyone to take care of him himself." She put her hand on his cheek and tilted his chin up a bit to meet his eyes better. Bruce's heart was hammering a mile a minute as she watched him, and he began to breathe slowly, inhaling in the scent of her and focusing himself on the feel of her fingers to calm him down.

"The man who reads T.S. Eliot with me and makes me cups of tea when I come home with a headache might have a beast inside him, but so does everyone else. And you use your beast to help save the world, so no complaints there." She sighed. "That's the man I see, even when the Hulk is what's in control...and I'm not afraid." She met his eyes again.

"You don't scare me." She told him.

He knew she wasn't lying.

For that, he hugged her. 

They stood there together for a minute in the silence, the only sound around them the soft buzzing of fluorescent lights. Bruce pulled her a little closer; Pepper laid her head on his bare shoulder. 

Then he began to laugh, low and quiet and gentle. Pepper looked up to meet his eyes, confused. He just pointed to the lights.

"I suppose I'll have this memory of fluorescent lights," he said, and his tone was soft and so happy it almost brought her to tears, "to counteract the others. I think this one outweighs the others. By far."

"I should hope so." Pepper whispered.

They stayed in each other's embrace for a minute more.

Then he kissed her forehead and pulled away, heading down the hall quietly. Pepper's heart lurched, and she began to panic.

"Where are you going?" She demanded, unable to stop a hint of fear from creeping into her tone. Bruce turned around and smiled.

"Uhm, I still need a shirt." He said, amused. "I'll see you back at base, all right? I figure I should have a shirt by then."

"...Right." Pepper said, waiting to hit herself in the face until he left. She figured he knew, though, because as he left the hospital behind, he was laughing. It wasn't a cruel laugh, however, and it warmed her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes as she gathered her wits about her to go find Thor and drag him back for the debriefing.

...

Thor sat by himself near where Tony was being treated, deep in thought. He would have gone in, but he knew his shieldbrothers needed to be alone together; he understood the desire to be by the side of a wounded lover, and so he let them be. Besides, he needed to think, and the atmosphere of a treatment room wasn't exactly conductive towards thought.

He knew that snake had something to do with his brother. He wasn't entirely sure as to what, but he didn't concern himself with that. What he was more concerned with now was what Loki was really up to, and why, of all times, he had decided to send this snake their way...after such a joyous occasion...

Thor sighed. He didn't know what to think about his brother any more. Love required no thoughts, but his unyielding love for his brother was still tempered by Loki's previous actions...and truly, he was unsure as to if Loki would ever be receptive to that love again. Not after what he had done. Not after what Asgard and the Jotunheim had done to him...

Thor massaged his temples, a habit he had picked up from Coulson. He didn't feel as if there was much else he could do save to perhaps find out the truth from his brother himself...

It would be easy, really. Fury had been hunting Loki for some time, and Thor knew full well that once Fury set his sights on something, he had already gotten his hands on it, truth be told. If he went back to base...if Loki was there, then...

He could finally get the truth. From the prince of lies himself.

Pepper came up to him, looking nervously at the door. The worry was writ clear across her face, and it occurred to Thor that she had spent more than enough time by a wounded Tony's bedside. He put his hand over hers and squeezed comfortingly.

"My lady, he will be well. My shieldbrothers look out for each other at all costs. Steve has taken him into his care; there is no need to concern yourself with Tony for the time being. When he comes home, you may fuss and worry--if the Captain even lets us have that privilege--and yell at him for not taking care of himself. Until then...we have other matters to attend to." Thor said firmly. "I believe we are needed back at base?"

Pepper looked at him for a second, as if confused by his sudden urgency. She didn't let it show for more than a minute, however; she simply nodded a quick agreement and beckoned to him. The two of them headed down the hallway quickly, stopping only to pick up Clint, who was a little bandaged up and urged to quit archery for at least two days, but otherwise fine. Pepper knew Coulson and Natasha would see to the rest of his care, so she simply beckoned to him and said, "Debriefing."

With both a groan of annoyance and a sigh of resignation, Clint followed after her, grumbling about the inevitability of being locked out of the archery range for a week or more. Coulson wouldn't take chances on his well-being, and Pepper secretly suspected he liked getting to baby the archer a little. Pride wouldn't let Clint submit to such preening unless he was injured.

The three of them made their way outside only to see Bruce, (with a shirt on this time; a pale blue shirt that read something about banana slugs. Pepper didn't ask.), looking a little flustered and leaning on a white SUV large enough to carry all of them.

"Coulson had it sent over before he left." He explained. Clint stiffened, panic suddenly evident in his eyes. Pepper tensed; she honestly was unsure as to how the man beside her would react to being without either Phil or Natasha, and from the looks of things, he wasn't taking it well already...

"Migraines, huh?" Clint murmured, his voice suddenly soft and concerned. "I'm just worried I'm the one causing them again."

"Clint, Phil's stressed about Fury," Pepper promised him, "and apparently, the S.H.I.E.L.D. medical team sent here without him knowing. It means...well, it means something's going on that's way above all of us, and it worries him, a lot. He wants to take care of you and the rest of the team, so it's making him stress...but you yourself aren't bothering him." Pepper put a careful hand on his shoulder.

"Come to the debriefing. It'll be ten minutes, no more. You know the procedure. Then you can head straight home to take care of him and help Natasha; hell, I'll drive you there myself if you want." Pepper told him. "Honestly, though, right now, I need all the Avengers with me that I can get. Please stay. Just long enough for me to get my things in order and handle being your new lieutenant commander or whatever I am."

Clint looked at her for a minute, a single eyebrow raised into a delicate arch. 

Then he bowed deeply and kissed her hand, grinning wickedly as he stood up and opened the door, helping her into the driver's seat.

"Anything for a lady." He said cheerfully, getting into shotgun, ignoring Bruce's laser-focused glare on his back the entire drive back home. Pepper just gripped the wheel and tried not to laugh.

...

The debriefing room was quiet as Pepper held a sheaf of paperwork in her hands, pacing in front of the table.

"Fortunately, this was a minor altercation, so there's not a lot we need to fill out...but Fury was incredibly interested in the incident with Steve and Tony's armor." She murmured. Clint shrugged.

"Well, none of us were expecting it," he reminded her, "I mean, 'cause it's Captain America and all; you don't imagine someone like him just suddenly going completely apeshit and stabbing through a giant Norse snake to get to his injured lover. They expect that shit from me, not Captain Apple Pie with Eagle Crust." He said. Pepper suppressed a snort of laughter at the nickname.

"Still, considering...what you mentioned last week..." Pepper was careful not to say anything further; after all, if Fury had eyes anywhere, this place would be it, "I would think it a little strange."

Clint met her eyes. Instantly, his gaze sharpened; he became as focused as she, and his face became a smooth, emotionless mask, his eyes like stone.

"I suppose it can't be helped," he said, and the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent reared its head in him as he added, "we have to deal with the inconsistencies..."

_So was Tony actually getting a shot at happiness for once in his life an_ inconsistency _to you, Fury?_ Pepper suddenly seethed, anger gripping her heart as she grit her teeth and continued on.

"So we're pretty much in the clear in regards to what we need to fill out--Coulson's pretty much prepared forms for any given situation, regardless of how insane or obscene--Clint, I have little doubt you inspired some of these forms--and all that's needed is a signature." Pepper sighed and sat in one of the chairs, suddenly feeling very drained. "But Fury wants a private meeting with Iron Man and Captain America."

"Well, good luck prying Steve away from Tony, then," Clint said, his normal dry tone returning as he slouched in his seat, "last I saw, he was about to murder half our med squad for getting close to him."

"I think he's willing to wait until Tony's been released from the hospital," Pepper replied, stretching out a little in the chair and feeling her aching muscles protest as she did so, closing her eyes before adding, "though I think he does want to see Steve as soon as possible."

"I repeat; you are not getting him away from Tony's bedside until Tony leaves the hospital. Do you honestly think anyone's going to try to explain "visiting hours" to Captain America?" Clint said. Pepper couldn't help but chuckle quietly.

"If they tried, Tony would just buy the hospital and abolish the very idea." She said, clearly amused. Clint laughed, leaning on the table, eyes bright. For a few minutes, they felt relaxed, even within the wall of S.H.I.E.L.D.; it was part of being an Avenger, knowing that even in this cold, sterile place...there was a family waiting.

Then an intern, a small slip of a woman that, regardless, had knives hidden relatively well on the outermost parts of both her upper thighs, poked her head in, looking hesitant.

"Excuse me...I hate to interrupt, but they told me Thor was here..." She coughed, clearly nervous. Clint had a reputation for "teasing" interns, (and by teasing, it was generally assumed to mean "suddenly instill a desire for psychiatric help and a shotgun within the new recruits"), so it was justified. Regardless, it put them all on edge as Thor stood up.

"I am Thor Odinson, fair maiden," he greeted her, his tone even and normal; almost kind, even, as he asked, "is something the matter?"

"Your brother, sir." She said. 

It was like the entire room had been frozen in a block of ice.

Mjolnir was at Thor's side in an instant; from the look on his face, he appeared to have not noticed summoning it. His eyes shone as he met the woman at the door, easily dwarfing her by a good two feet. Clint and Pepper both gave her credit for not outright fainting.

"He is here, sir, in the S.H.I.E.L.D. containment facilities...and he...he wishes to speak with you." She said, her voice soft and inviting no argument. Thor continued to stare at her for a second.

"Guide me to him, then," he said then, and they all sat up straighter, suddenly aware they were in the presence of a king _, "I wish to speak to my brother._ "

It was then they all knew they sat in the company of a god.

The woman turned tail and left the room, calling back, "I will show you the way." 

Thor left the room, leaving lightning in his wake. It burned in their mouths like acid and the dry dust of a desert summer. 

He shut the door with the softest, quietest of clicks before they heard him leave the hallway behind. Even that was enough to make them all jump at least a foot into the air.

For a moment, no one said anything. They all just looked at each other, eyes wide and mouths parted.

"...Pepper, why don't we go get some coffee." Bruce said, catching sight of her pale face and wide eyes as he took her hand. Pepper nodded.

"Clint, you can make it home?" She said, her duty to the team suddenly overtaking her and knocking her fear aside, if only for a moment. Clint nodded hastily.

"Yeah, I'm good," he said quickly, just as eager to leave as they were, "you two enjoy yourselves, I'm going to go take care of Phil and calm down Nat. Bye."

He was out the door in seconds; he knew the building even better than they did, to be fair, but even then, Pepper and Bruce were hot on his heels, heading for the safety of outside, far away from the fight between gods they could feel stirring, like a storm on the horizon.


	46. Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can be mad at me all you want, I totally understand.  
> Anyways.  
> So I want to make something clear. This entire fic was plotted, conceptualized, and this scene written before the Avengers. I didn't know a damn thing about what Loki would do in that movie. So...if you're going to judge his character, judge it as if the events of the Avengers never happened, because as far as this fic is concerned, they didn't. Because otherwise it'll probably just...ruin everything for you.  
> That's it, though. I just hope you like this chapter. ^^

_He is here._

The thought ran through both their minds, like two rivers joining at a fork to create one flowing path. 

Loki's mouth was wet with blood, but his tongue still shone silver, and for once, he was using it to benefit others. That alone made him want to bash his head against the containment walls until he was embraced by the sweet peace of unconsciousness, but the sudden feeling of lightning pierced the entire room, its acid tang so familiar that it trailed down his spine like kisses from a lover. Loki sighed.

Too late now. Thor was coming. He would simply have to see this game through to the end.

Loki tilted his head up and looked at his brother for the first time in what felt like forever. 

He looked happy to see him, if only for a moment. Loki understood. It was hard for Thor to care, in all truth, and he understood that. He had not made it easy on him. Loki cared not. 

"Brother," he said, and his voice was a soft gasp that ran through Loki's heart like a bolt of lightning, and it was then and there Loki knew that, damn himself to the plains of Hel, he  _did_  care, "brother, I--"

"You did not come."

His tone was accusatory and he knew it; he wanted to twist that knife in further. He let the illusions he had kept up to put on a front for the S.H.I.E.L.D. hounds slip; now, the entire room could see the wounds the experiments had bequeathed him. 

Loki bared his teeth. There was blood in his mouth. Thor looked like he wanted to reach through the feet of glass separating them both and hold him close. 

"I thought it a simple dream," Thor began, but Loki cut him off with a cruel laugh.

"No, you _didn't_ ," he said, his voice sharp, "you knew it for what it was, brother, but you do not trust me."

"How can I?!" Thor demanded. "After all you have done--after  _everything_ you have put Asgard through,  _our family_  through, do you truly think I should trust anything you tell me?!"

"I don't know, oaf," Loki snapped, his temper rising despite himself, "you trust Fury."

Silence fell between the two of them. 

"It is not  _our_ family," Loki said quietly, "not any longer." He smiled, then, and it was bitter and dark. 

"You really know nothing, Thor," he murmured, "and that will prove to be your undoing one day, but not today. Today, I will show you the truth. Just this once."

He let the last illusion slip; the illusion of pale skin and green eyes.

Thor went through the looking glass to see a monster in the place where his brother had been. He saw the difference and no difference.

"...You are..." Thor whispered, his tone horrified, "...you are  _lying._  You are  _not my Loki_!" 

His words made Loki shudder despite himself. He could not help the sudden pains that lanced his heart, as much as he loathed them. 

"I am," he murmured, "I am Loki Laufeyson, a Jotunn. Odin took me from the Jotunheim when I was an infant to use me for further plans or to foster peace." Loki bared his teeth at the idea. "Do you understand why I fought Asgard and the Jotunheim both, brother? Do you realize, at least, the reason I did so, if not my pain or my anger? Tell me now, for it will make my choice as to whether I abandon this charade of brotherhood or not." 

"...You still called me brother." Thor said. His voice was rough with an emotion Loki could not name. "Did you not hear that? In your speech. You called me brother."

"Perhaps I did," Loki said quietly, "but that can change. Look upon me now and decide if that is what you wish."

There was silence between the two of them for a minute. Loki gave Thor time to think before he would speak. He could wait.

"Your actions were and are unforgivable," Thor began, and Loki flinched at that until he heard Thor continue, "but perhaps...understandable. If not sympathetic. I do not claim to know what it is like to feel as if you are but a tool of your father. I love Odin, Loki. Whatever crimes he perpetrated on you, they were innocent, not born of any malice or desire for revenge against your people."

"That did not stop them from doing what they did to me," Loki spat, "so you will forgive me if I find it hard to forgive crimes simply because they are not malicious. Crime is still crime, and the pain wrought--"

"Brother, I am certain most men would find it hard to forgive crimes such as yours." Thor said. His tone was gentle. Still, Loki reeled back as if he had been slapped. Thor sighed.

"I do not condemn my father, for his crimes were innocent of any hate or malice. I do not condemn you, for your crimes were created by crimes done unto you. But I do know that you have committed wrongdoings--as has Odin." Thor told him. "Yet I accept him as my father. Should I not accept you as my brother, then?"

Loki stared at him. Thor sighed and leaned his forehead against the glass. Trembling sapphire fingers pressed against where his skin would have been, had they not been separated.

"Brother." Loki whispered, and it was not enough; there were wrongdoings to account for and conflicts to resolve and pain to heal, but Thor knew then that despite everything, Loki loved him, and that was more than enough, if only for him.

"Yes, Loki," he responded in kind, "brother."

"I came here to speak to you." Loki murmured. "I waited. I sang. You did not come." He repeated. Thor sighed.

"I thought it a trap," he confessed, "for what they were doing to you in that Dream...it was...unforgivable." He said. "I have friends in S.H.I.E.L.D., brother, comrades and allies and shieldmates; the Son of Coul is in charge of our care, even. Certainly this cannot have come to pass."

"Do you not see the blood, brother?" Loki snapped, flinging his hands against the glass. They were wet with blood from cuts reopened by Loki's gesturing, the examination team having been curious as to how Jotunn nerve endings worked. Loki had managed to magic away most of the damage, but the blood remained, and that was enough to make Thor look ill. "You may have allies in S.H.I.E.L.D., but they are the exception that proves the rule, if that! S.H.I.E.L.D. broke my body and took it apart for their own amusement! And I  _let them_!" Loki roared. "I _let them_  so that  _I could be with you_!"

"...Brother..." Thor whispered, his voice soft and pained. Loki did not seem to hear him. He was lost in the agony that had been the past few torturous days, and his brother's voice was unheeded in that nightmare.

"I let myself get tortured for  _days_ , simply because I wanted to see _you_ \--I wanted you to know who I was, brother, and either accept me or reject me. I am grateful for your acceptance, however tenative it is, but that matter has passed, and I--" Loki swallowed. No. He had not wanted Thor's acceptance, nor expected it. That was not the whole truth. And Thor deserved that, just this once, if nothing else.

"I am here because I wanted to remind you I was a  _monster_. So that you would  _leave._  And I would have no reason _not_ to be a monster for the rest of my days." Loki whispered. Thor was silent. Loki shook his head and bared his teeth.

"Damn you," he said, and it was a horrible lie that he could not help telling, "damn you, you  _always_ get in my way..."

There was another pause while thousands of years of pain went unspoken between them. Thor bridged the gap as best he could with the words he knew. He was no silvertongue. But he was Loki's brother and he loved him, and so his words rang true.

"I accept you." Thor said simply. "I do not understand you. I do not think I can. But I accept you. Because I loved you. And because I wish to again."

Loki did not say anything for a very long time. Thor did not mind. He had nowhere else to be. His place had always been by his brother's side, he knew that.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. has hurt me," Loki finally said, "and it will hurt you. I promise you that, brother. Which is the only reason I care. I care not for those shieldbrothers of yours; they are not you. But I know _you_ care, and so their wellbeing concerns me."

Thor blinked. 

"Loki, I do not understand what Steve and Anthony have to do with any of this." He said slowly. Loki sighed.

"Of course you don't, you oaf," he said, but there was affection to that word this time, and so Thor could not help but smile, "but I do, because I was witness to Fury and his observations of your fight." Loki sighed. There was no sense in telling Thor what he had really fought. It would only hurt him. Loki did not want him hurt for the time being.

"He wants the two of them under his control," Loki said, "and he is using Steve to get control over Anthony, and as such, ensnare them both." Loki sighed. "Fury wishes to manipulate Steve into making decisions that would harm Anthony, who seeks his counsel above all else. It could result in death for the both of them...if that is pertinent to Fury's plans." Loki huffed. "You are my team. I wish no one to cause your deaths but me, and if that is to happen, it will be in honorable combat, with my victory coming due to wits and magic rather than toying with the hearts of men."

"Brother, you can't--" Thor cut himself off for a second. Hadn't the Son of Coul brought this up before? Just before they all were dismissed for a week...and, come to think of it, why had that week's dismissal been necessary? Surely they weren't useless; there were crisises that only they could handle every day...had there been an ulterior motive, then?

"You know I am right, brother, though you do not like to admit it." Loki said quietly, cutting Thor's thoughts off. "I am aware it is hard for you to believe or understand. Truly, this goes deeper than even I find myself capable of understanding with the limited information I have at hand." He looked up at Thor. His eyes had returned to their emerald shade, and his skin was once again pale, the illusions settled into place.

"Brother, I beg of you," Loki murmured, "leave this place. Take your team. Leave. I will go with you--we will find a safe haven, assess what can be done, and--"

"And destroy Midgard from there?" Thor snapped. Loki sensed immediately something had gone wrong, but it was too late. Thor backed away and Loki's heart ached all the more for it.

"Brother, I know you wish to sow doubt and despair amongst the humans, but your own brother? Why, Loki? I..." Thor looked confused and despairing, and so Loki grieved. Everything was falling apart again, getting broken down, and he would fall for good this time without his brother to catch him,  _he had to do something--_

"Brother,  _please_ ," Loki begged, "I do not lie. Just for once, I do not lie! All this will result in is the demise of your entire team through the hands of the man that brought it into being, and if your idiocy gets innocents killed, surely you won't--"

"Loki, I know not what game you play, but it seems that you are still playing it." Thor said quietly. "I thought such mischief beyond you now. Perhaps I thought wrong."

"Brother--if this was about just them, I would not care!" Loki cried. "But you shall come to harm, brother! If he cannot control you, you shall be next! You cannot let that happen! I do this for you, brother, and only you! Why would I lie, then?"

"Because you do not know how to stop." Thor murmured. "In fact, you are lying to yourself, even now."

"I love you," Loki said, and it was not a lie, but Thor could not tell, "I love you, brother, I cannot lie to you, brother, _brother please_ \--"

"You have already done so, Loki, and I see no reason as to why you should change now." Thor remarked. His tone was quiet and cold. 

"Because everything I ever did--even the lies I told you--was for _you_ , Thor. So that we may be true brothers and equals. Even when I hurt you with my lies, I always meant to heal the wounds. All of this was for you, Thor." Loki whispered. "And that has not changed. And that shall  _never_  change. And that means the warnings I give you are true." He looked into Thor's eyes.

"Please, brother. You said you understood me. If you truly did, you would know that I speak the truth. They will hurt you. I cannot let this come to pass. Brother, please." Loki whispered. 

"It shall not come to pass," Thor said, "but that shall be in no thanks to any lies of yours."

Thor stood up. His fingers left the glass. 

"Goodbye, Loki," Thor murmured, "if you should need me, my mind and heart shall be open to your songs. But not so long as they are filled with lies."

"Brother!" Loki wailed brokenly, his fingers scrabbling against the glass uselessly as he cursed himself for everything he had done thus far, "Brother,  _please_!  _Thor! THOR!_ "

Thor left the lab without a word.

It was only once he got back to the privacy of his own quarters that he broke down and wept, the child within him at the forefront of his mind, weeping as well, all for the brother he had thought he had been able to save.


	47. Hospital Vigil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athena tries to bargain with Steve. He absolutely will not leave Tony's side. A discussion is had. A hospital vigil is kept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sudden jump from Loki and Thor to Steve and Tony, sorry! I promise Loki comes back soon. Things will be just fine, no fear.  
> I have to admit to really liking Athena, sorry if she bores any of you. I dunno, OCs always make me nervous, sob. Anyways, not much to say about this chapter...hope it's up to snuff.

Back at the hospital, Steve laid his head against Tony's chest for a second, listening to his heartbeat. As tender as the gesture was, there was a reason behind it as well; listening to Tony's heartbeat, with his enhanced hearing and memorization of Tony's regular heartbeat, was actually a better fit for gauging Tony's condition than an average monitor.

"He's back to normal, Doctor Danvers," Steve said, "though it's slowed. I believe that's partially because he's asleep and partially because he's been sedated..." Steve sighed. "Regardless, Tony is doing all right."

"That's good to hear, Captain," Athena said, keeping her tone light, "especially since that means you can head back to base and discuss the mission with the Director."

Steve's relief fled from his face in the blink of an eye, only to be replaced by brittle, icy fury. He looked up at her.

"Excuse me?" He said, his tone soft but no less venomous for it as he whispered, "Are you honestly trying to tell me to leave my Tony sedated and alone in a hospital for a meeting? Do you really think I'm going to just get up and leave Tony alone?"

"Orders are orders, Captain," Athena said, but the look in his eyes was beginning to make her waver, even as she added, "I know Fury put in a request to see you personally, soldier. Pissing the Director off is something none of us want to do."

"I'm not leaving Tony." Steve said, and that was that. Athena knew she wasn't getting him out of there. She sighed.

"I'm going to have to go back to base and explain that to him, you know." She said. "Do you really want to answer to the Director on this?"

"...Back when Tony wanted me to stay with him," Steve began, and his voice was tender as he recalled the memory, "he fought the Director for me. And he said he would have done more--he would have fought him to a standstill if had needed to, because he wanted to be with me." Steve's head was high and his eyes were full of pride and determination as they met hers.

"Ma'am, with all due respect to you and the Director, I would like to say this; Tony fought for me when I needed to be with him. Now I'm going to fight for him when he needs to be with me." Steve said. "He was willing to fight the Director for me. I am more than capable of doing the same."

Athena didn't know what to say to that. She almost had the feeling that she was intruding on some sort of private and sacred feeling that Steve had never wanted to share. So she simply nodded curtly and saluted him.

"Understood, sir, and respected." She said quitely. "I am sure Fury will understand as well."

"He will," Steve said, keeping his tone pleasant, "though it doesn't matter if he doesn't, because I'm not leaving."

"...All right, Captain." Athena sighed. "At the very least, get some sleep tonight. No one will push you on the visiting hours thing, but we do need to make sure you're not in Tony's position by the time he's all healed up."

"I will," Steve said, sounding amused, "I'd be a bit of a hypocrite if I didn't sleep after all I tell Tony to do the same." He sighed. "How long will he be here?"

"Truth be told, those shock absorbers coupled with how fast you got him out of the suit saved him from a few broken ribs and a hell of a lot of pain," Athena said, clearly impressed, "which means you've really got bruises and a few cuts to deal with and not much else, thank god--especially since you yourself confirmed there seems to have been no damage to the heart." She massaged her temples. "And that means he'll be out of here by tomorrow, but I want to see him in my personal office back at S.H.I.E.L.D. the day he gets back to work, if only to run a check-up on him. Understood?"

"I'll make sure he gets there," Steve promised, "and a lot of bedrest, besides. Thank you, Doctor Danvers." He smiled, and it took all of her dignity as a grown woman and the head Medical Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. to refrain from swooning. "You've done a lot for Tony, and that means you've done a lot for me. I'm more grateful than I can express!"

"It's my job, Captain," she said, sighing ruefully as she added, "as much as it's my job to report back to Fury that you won't leave..."

"If the team really is his priority, he'll understand." Steve said, his tone firm. "Nothing and no one will make me leave Tony's side. Not now, not ever. So I'm not really worried."

"And that means you haven't worked at S.H.I.E.L.D. for very long, have you..." Athena said. Steve tried not to let his shock at the bitterness in her tone show on his face. She just sighed.

"You're a good man, Captain; maybe one of the greatest." She told him. "And for that, I'm real sorry. I can only hope you're a lucky man, too."

She left after that, the medical team leaving with her. Steve watched them leave. 

He didn't know what to think about what she had said, and since he had more important things on his mind, he didn't. He pulled up a chair by Tony's bedside and took his hand, lying back in the seat and closing his eyes, falling asleep with Tony's hand in his, the pulses in their thumbs beating against each other in unison, as if to reassure the hand that they cradled against that the body they were attached to was safe and sound.

...

Fury hummed quietly, tunelessly to himself, tapping out a rhythm on his mahogany desk as Athena Danvers stood in front of him, her entire body rigid. She was nervous. Then again, so was any sane person in the presence of the Director. Especially when they were the bearers of bad news.

"Sir," she greeted him quietly, "I hate to report this, but I was just with Rogers at the hospital. He...he won't leave Stark's side, sir." She sighed. "He would have fought me, I think, if I had tried to forcibly remove him, and I did not bring any sedatives geared towards his extraordinary physique. I was forced to leave him there."

Fury was quiet for a minute. Athena began to worry if all the gossip was true; that now, since she had displeased him, he was going to press some button and open up a shark tank full of carnivorous monsters. 

"Is that so?" Fury said. He didn't sound angry. He sounded...interested. _Amused_ , almost. Athena swallowed. She knew the Director. She didn't like that tone one bit. It never spoke of anything positive.

"It is so, sir," she replied, "Stark is still recuperating from his injuries--they are minor, more minor than I had expected, in part due to how fast Rogers got the suit off of him--and under sedation. Steve didn't want to leave him alone."

Fury didn't say anything for another minute. Athena was suddenly gripped by the urge to run back to the hospital and warn Steve of whatever battle was coming his way, because there was a storm on the horizon. After twenty years of working with Fury, she could feel it.

"He is a good man, isn't he, Athena?" Fury finally said, startling her out of her musings. Athena nodded, schooling her face into a mask of stoicism before answering.

"He certainly is, sir," she answered without a moment's hesitation; the truth was, Steve truly _was_ a good man, which she had seen within moments of being in his company, so for once, she did not have to lie or dissemble about that, "and I find that it is very easy to notice. He does not hide his kind heart under years of pain or scars or of the simple desire for the world to leave him be. He... _shines_ , sir."

She blushed a little at that, because like so many other girls her age, her parents having grown up during the era of Captain America, she had been raised on stories about him, and had always nursed a small, secret crush on the man himself. She figured Fury would notice.

If he did, though, he didn't remark upon it. He just nodded in agreement.

"He really does," Fury agreed, "and it's interesting, really. I wasn't expecting it. Not at all. But...it's a pleasant surprise." He chuckled. "I've had more than a few of those today." 

He looked at her then, his one good eye sizing her up. Athena grit her teeth and did not flinch. It was a gaze that bored right into her heart, and she would not buckle beneath it.

"I can put off the meeting until Stark has left the hospital," Fury said, and Athena did her best not to betray her surprise as he added, "since he'll be out tomorrow, won't he?"

"Yes, sir." Athena said. Fury nodded.

"Good. Steve can come here then. I'm in no hurry." He said, and there was a small smile on his face that made Athena shiver.

"He is a good man," Fury repeated, "which is why S.H.I.E.L.D. needs to bring him under heel before he realizes just how dangerous that is for both himself and the people he cares about." He looked at her, and his single eye was cold. "Wouldn't you agree, Doctor Danvers?"

No, she did not agree. But that was not something she trusted herself to be honest about.

"Certainly, sir." She said. "I will place a call to Steve and let him know that you will see him tomorrow after Tony has been discharged from the hospital." 

"Thank you, Doctor Danvers." Fury said, his voice quiet and calm as he folded his hands together. "I'm sure Steve's main concern is to protect Tony, but you do need to remind him of his other obligations." He sighed. "And remind him to do his paperwork, won't you? We don't want him picking up Tony's bad habits."

"I will, sir," Athena murmured, "and I hope not. I will see you soon, Director." 

She turned on her heel and left. Fury's eye bored into her back the entire time. Athena kept her head high, regardless.

...

Steve was awoken from his nap by a text on Tony's phone. He raised an eyebrow and sighed, eyes still bleary from sleep. He grabbed the phone and checked the text, reading the message.

_"Steve, it's Athena. Director will see you when Tony is discharged from hospital. He wants his report on your week by then as well. P.S.; please be careful."_

Steve was immediately awake, his whole body tense. Why did Fury let him postpone the meeting until then? He had been expecting at least a little more of a fight...especially from the way the others made him sound. Something had to be wrong.

"Tony, honey?" Steve whispered. Tony did not stir. Steve took his hand and squeezed it gently before he sighed heavily and murmured, "Tony, honey, how am I going to keep you _safe_?"

There was no reply. Steve sighed. He had to get that paperwork done, anyway...thankfully, the hospital kept stationery in all the rooms, and there was a pen on the bedside table. 

Steve began to write his report, careful to omit the singular detail that he and Tony had entered a relationship. He would tell Fury most of the incident from two days ago...but he would not tell him about their confrontation. Tony deserved the right to come out about their relationship when he was ready.

So Steve added in everything else he could think of, ending his report with the simple plea to continue to remain at Tony's, where things had proved both interesting, life-affirming, and, well...happy. He was happy. And he wanted to stay.

Steve signed the sheaf of papers and sighed, relieved, exhaustion getting the better of him all of a sudden.

"Oh, sweetheart..." Steve whispered, his voice warm, "if only we could go back home tonight. Maybe I could even stay in your room. I don't think it's improper to do that anymore, is it?"

Tony slept on, unresponsive. Steve huffed and managed a smile despite his other concerns. Tony looked so peaceful, even through the injuries on his face spoke otherwise. Briefly, Steve mused on the fact that Tony would probably get more sleep in the hospital than he had been in weeks, even with his care.

"Oh, Tony..." Steve murmured quietly, "sweetheart, I need to take better care of you. Even now. So don't worry, okay? I won't let something like this happen again."

He brushed his lips against Tony's, gentle and chaste. The feel of Tony against him, wounded but _alive_ , safe and sound, all because of him, made Steve smile. His heart swelled with love as he took Tony's hand and held it tight, settling back in on the chair and yawning delicately, sleep returning to him as he sunk into the cushions. 

"Goodnight, darling," Steve whispered, "see you in the morning."

Tony mumbled softly in his sleep. Steve couldn't help but chuckle lightly before sleep claimed him as well. 


	48. The Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony have a bit of a fight. Tony is a big fat baby over the stupid suit, oh my god. For real. Pepper is just so fed up with his bullshit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First; this fic is a birthday update~ I figured it was only fair because DarkGreenOtaku is just generally awesome and I'm sorry this chapter is short and also a heartpuncher. Oops. I tried.  
> Anyways--yeah, so. Tony's...being a big baby about all this, but try to remember; he has no idea what's going on, his suit that probably costs a fuckload of money got torn up, he doesn't know Steve was careful, but he DOES know that not only is Steve a huge mother hen who doesn't really approve of Iron Man, but he's also a man from the 40s, which might mean that ingrained sense of "no no I do stuff you stay home and keep house." It DOESN'T, but Tony's also...well, Tony. Quick to believe the worst. Also, he's just gotten beaten up, probably high on painkillers, and in no good emotional straits here, is what I'm saying. So...please don't think too badly of him for this. It's understandable. Albeit frustrating and pitiable.

"Captain?"

The word made Steve stir, and he grunted in surprise, opening a bleary eye. One of the nurses was standing over him. So was Tony.

"Tony!" Steve sat up immediately, scrabbling out of the chair to hug Tony tight, relief making him unabashed about his affection. Tony winced in pain and Steve retreated immediately, worry written all over his face.

"Sorry," he apologized, "I'm just so glad you're feeling better..."

"He's fit to leave now, if you two would like," The nurse piped up cheerfully, a small smile on her face. "we've got a wheelchair waiting if he can't make it out under his own steam, but..."

For a second, Steve paused. To have Tony leave meant a meeting with Fury. But Tony would be warm and safe at home, with JARVIS watching over him when Steve couldn't. That was far better than having him in a sterile, cold hospital, even if it meant Steve had to go face Fury.

"I can get out on my own, I'm fine, I--" Tony was cut off as Steve took him into his arms with one swift, gentle movement. Tony sputtered, his protests weak as Steve cradled him in his arms, situating him so as to keep his injuries from being further aggravated. Tony fell still, sighing heavily.

"Steve, put me down." He ordered. 

"No." Steve said firmly. "If you don't want a wheelchair, that's fine, but you're not walking."

"Put me down, Steve." Tony demanded. Steve sighed, waiting until they were out of anyone else's sight to react.

He stopped only long enough to pull Tony closer, close enough that he could kiss him, tender and gentle. 

Steve didn't know it, but the only reason Tony fell silent and settled close was that the kiss filled him with relief; finally, some validation that Steve wanted his body. That he wasn't completely useless and unfuckable.

Steve just smiled with triumph, thinking that his love had gotten through to Tony. 

"See, honey?" Steve murmured gently. "I don't mind. You're very light. I can carry you." He sighed. "Is there a car waiting for us, darling, or should I call Pep?"

"I think Coulson should've sent over a car by now," Tony mumbled, closing his eyes and snuggling against Steve's chest, "but we can just sit and wait for awhile. They have a bench outside." He laughed, the sedatives still making him a little giggly. "Can I sit on the bench by myself, darling?"

"Maybe," Steve teased, his voice soft and amused, "or maybe I'll hold you until the car comes, my love." He kissed the top of Tony's head. "I can't say I would complain too much."

"Neither would I, but I do have my dignity to consider." Tony said, snuggling closer despite his protest. Steve stroked his hair and smiled brightly.

"I'll let you sit by yourself, dear. I have to sign you out of the hospital, all right?" Steve murmured. "Please be careful. I'll only be gone for a few minutes, but still..."

"I'll be fine by myself on the big, scary bench, Steve." Tony teased, his voice light. "You don't need to worry about me. Just make sure I get the hell out of here as soon as possible."

"Okay, sweetie." Steve murmured, kissing the top of his head and taking Tony outside, situating him on the bench beside the the pathway up to the doors. "I'll be back out as soon as I can. Please be careful, Tony. You're still injured."

"M'fine, m'fine." Tony said, tilting his head back to soak in the sun. "See you soon, Steve."

Steve kissed his forehead tenderly, mindful of the injuries on Tony's skin, before making his way back inside. Just as the hospital doors closed shut behind him, a black car Tony recognized as Coulson's pulled up the path. 

Tony tensed, his eyes narrowing as the car came to a stop. He only relaxed once he saw Pepper getting out and running over to him, taking him into her arms as gently as she could, her relief that he was safe evident in her touch. 

"Tony, oh god..." She shook her head. "You're safe. I'm so glad you're all right. Steve wouldn't have let you get worse, but I just worried..."

"I'm fine, Pep." Tony promised, taking her hand and squeezing it. "Look, Steve's signing me out so we can head home, all right? Just help me in the car and we're good to go."

Pepper looked anxious suddenly. Tony tensed again, unsure of what was going on. He was overcome by the sudden need to call Steve back to his side again. 

"Tony..." She sighed. "I've got some bad news."

...

Tony listened quietly, his whole body numb as Pepper told him about what had happened with the armor. It was in pieces on his desk, apparently, probably beyond repair, and for what? How could he? _How could he?_

"And on top of all that, Steve has to meet with the Director after we get you home..." Pepper shook her head, adding, "god only knows what he wants..."

"Good," Tony snapped, "maybe he can get an explanation as to why Steve _wrecked my armor_!"

Pepper stopped where she was and looked at Tony, her eyes wide.

"No, Tony," she said, her voice low, "don't you dare start this. Don't you _dare._ You are _not_ throwing away this relationship because of your stupid god damned _armor-_ -

"He _ruined it,_ Pep!" Tony screamed, his eyes wild as he stood up and glared at her. "He ruined my _armor!_ Why, Pepper? Why the hell would he do that? _How could he_? That armor is _everything that matters_! The _only thing_  that matters! How could he? _How could he_?!"

Pepper folded her arms over her chest and glared at him. Tony fell silent, but there was still the wild look of betrayal on his face.

"You know why, Tony? Because maybe for just this _one time,_ and maybe to just this _one person,_ _you_ mattered more than the armor _ever_ could." Pepper snapped. 

Tony fell silent. Pepper just stared at him, her eyes burning as she gripped the files she had brought with her.

"You are _not_ going to ruin your relationship with this man." Pepper told him. "Not here, not now, and _not over this_. You are _not_ the armor, Tony. And the armor could _never_ matter as much as you do." She blinked harshly, clearly pushing back tears. "Not to him. Not...not to me."

Tony's face was like stone as the doors to the hospital opened and Steve came out, smiling nervously as he met the both of them.

"Hey, Pep." He greeted her, his tone deceptively light. Pepper just looked fearful. He sighed. "I take it you're here to bring me back to S.H.I.E.L.D. and make sure I meet with Fury, aren't you?" He held up the sheaf of papers. "I have my report and everything."

"Let's just get you in the car, Steve," Pepper murmured, trying to keep her tone light, "it's nothing major, just a meeting--"

"If it is, then we can drop Tony off at home first, can't we?" Steve piped up. "He needs more rest. And he needs something to eat..."

"Oh, sure," Tony muttered, his tone sharp and bitter, "you care about this worthless piece of junk, but you don't care about the _armor_." 

"...What?" Steve said, rounding on him suddenly, his eyes wide. "Tony, don't--don't you _dare_ call yourself that! And you _know_ I don't care about the armor, I--"

"I knew it!" Tony snapped. _"I knew it!_ You _don't_ care! I--I don't _believe_ you, Steve! I know this might be a little hard for you to understand, but men don't get to control their partners' _lives_ anymore! I'm not going to stop being Iron Man, even if you _destroy the suit!_ "

"...What?" Steve whispered. "Tony...what are you talking about? Tony, please listen--the suit was already damaged, I didn't--"

Tony got in the car without a word. Pepper stood there, horrified, hands shaking as she met Steve's eyes. They were filled with tears and confusion.

Pepper had never wanted to punch Tony more in her life.

"...Pep?" Steve murmured. "P-please make sure he doesn't go work on the suit. I...I'll be home after the meeting. I-if it's s-still my home anymore." 

He bowed and kissed her hand. Pepper could feel his tears on her skin. She panicked--she couldn't help it. She grabbed his hand and shook her head. 

"Steve, wait, please--Tony doesn't mean this, he's just--frightened and panicked, and--he still loves you, Steve, he's just not used to that, please--"

"Pep, I know." Steve told her, and there was a smile on his face despite his tears. "Tony's going to be fine. I think he just needs his space. I'll give it to him. I understand."

"...You are so much better than he deserves. Especially after this." Pepper muttered bitterly. Steve shook his head.

"No, Pep, it isn't about that, and you know it," he replied, "the truth is that all that matters is how much I love Tony, not how he does or doesn't deserve me. And that love means I understand him right now and am willing to give him his space." He kissed her forehead. "Please don't be too hard on him. He's frightened. You're right. I'll be there to soothe his fears and talk to him as soon as I can. But...I have to do this first."

"I know," Pepper whispered, "but...how are you going to get there? I mean--"

"Oh, it's not that far," Steve said, his tone light, "and I'm actually a pretty fast runner."

He was off, then, before Pepper could yell for him to wait. She looked at the car, then back at Steve, heading for S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters.

"...Tony, I'm going to _murder_ you." She snapped, getting in the car and preparing to give Tony a piece of her furious mind.


	49. Drive Angry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Pepper have a talk. Well, Pepper yells at Tony. THEN they talk. Fury plots and plans. Steve is so oblivious. And heartbroken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will never actually stop feelspunching you. Sorry about that.  
> In any case, this is Fury being a little more devious...I don't really like him evil. I know y'all hate him and that's fine this is a dick move, but remember that in the context of SHIELD, it's a dick move that makes total sense. Tony's out of control; it makes perfect sense to leash him to the leader and then give that leader orders, in the hopes that the leader will make the liability work like you want. Is it NICE? No. It's awful. But it's also what needs to be done. So...yeah. I hope this at least...makes you understand. Not LIKE him, I don't really like him in this, which is sad, because Fury is one of my favorite comics characters, but it's because of that love that I kind of defend him.  
> Anywho, Pepper. Pepper is still the best, all the haters to the left, I love her. And she's just...oh, god. So used to Tony's crap.  
> P.S. I really hate when Tony calls himself Iron Man in case it's not obvious. Because it isn't a title to him, it's a life. And it goes beyond that; he calls himself Iron Man because he thinks that's all he's worth. HE IS SO MUCH MORE THAN THAT AND I JUST  
> CAN'T  
> HANDLE  
> TONY  
> argh.  
> So yeah. I'm a little bitter about shit like "The suit and I are one" because no, Tony. You're not the suit. You're better than that. Blegh.  
> Regularly scheduled Tony feels over, hope you like the chapter!

"You are the most callous, disgusting fucking human being I have ever had the displeasure of working for in my entire _life_!" Pepper screamed, slamming her hands on the steering wheel. Tony sat beside her, impassive. "You made him _cry,_ Stark! And he _still_ wants to be with you! I will never know _why_ , but he _does_!"

"Go ahead, tell me how terrible I am," Tony snapped, "validate all my thoughts about myself. See if it even fucking _bothers me_ anymore, Pepper."

"Well it _should,_ you callous, self-righteous fuck!" Pepper snarled. "He was _crying_! Because of you and this fucking _armor_ , and your ridiculous notions born of your own stupidity and self-hatred! You are a horrible excuse for a human being, and I could--I could just _punch you_ , you--"

"Go ahead." Tony murmured. Pepper stopped. She recognized that tone. It spoke of nothing good. Tony laughed, low and dark.

"Don't think I don't know you hate me," he told her, "but don't think it hurts me, either. Because you're _right_. I...I made him cry." Tony closed his eyes. "It's _better_ if he leaves. We let this get too far already. And--and he makes me--he makes me--"

"Makes you _what_ , Stark?" Pepper said, her voice quiet. Tony shook his head.

"He makes me care about something other than being Iron Man, and that isn't fair." Tony said. "I _can't_ care. There's nothing about me worth that effort."

Pepper stared at him for a second. Then she sighed and pulled over, looking at him.

"You're still angry about the suit, aren't you." She said. It wasn't a question. Tony nodded anyway, looking frustrated about it. She sighed. 

"Well, at least you understand that's idiotic. Maybe he is making progress now." Pepper remarked, her tone dry. "Look, Tony. Go home. Don't aggravate your injuries. And think about why you're angry, and if it's really worth it." She sighed. "And furthermore..."

"You don't _really_ hate me, right?" Tony said suddenly, his voice soft and pained. "Pep?"

Pepper looked at him for a second.

Then she unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed across the center console to hug Tony tight, stroking his hair. Tony sniffled, agonized and buried his face into her chest for comfort. Pepper couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for blowing up at him. She had really hurt him--not that he didn't _deserve_  it right now, but he trusted and loved her. If she yelled at him, it hurt him more than he let himself get hurt by almost anyone else.

"No, Tony," she murmured, "I don't hate you. I think you've done something rash and dumb, but I don't hate you." She kissed the top of his head and felt the sniffles and shaking stop. "Look...Tony, you _know_ you're pushing him away. And you're doing it over the _armor._ Is the armor _really_ worth more to you than _Steve_?"

"...Pep, you don't understand," Tony told her, "the only reason the armor _exists_ is so I could be a little more like Steve. So I could be a _hero._ " He closed his eyes. "And that's...not what he wants for me. He doesn't think I _deserve_ to wear it. I don't...I don't know what to do.."

"Tony, that isn't--that isn't what _happened_ , Tony, I was _there_!" Pepper snapped. "If you'd get over yourself and that damn armor long enough to realize you've got it all wrong, you could--"

"He _destroyed the armor_ , Pepper." Tony snapped back. "Iron Man and I are one. It's like he destroyed a part of me. I can't just--"

"No you're _not_ , Stark!" Pepper yelled at him. Tony reeled back a little, as if he'd been slapped. Pepper pulled out onto the highway again and roared for home before she looked at him, her eyes cold.

"Iron Man and Tony Stark aren't the same person. They never have been. Iron Man is a shell for Tony Stark to hide himself away in. Or a cage to suffocate Tony Stark in." She snapped. "And I suggest you do some goddamn re-prioritizing in your life based on that fact."

The two drove home in silence. Tony laid his head against the window, eyes overcast with thought. 

When they got home, Tony got out of the car before she did, storming up into the house. Pepper opened her mouth to tell him to stay in bed, to not go near the lab, but before she could, he was out of earshot and had shut the door on any protests she might make.

She looked at the closed-off house for a long, slow minute.

Then she turned and walked away. 

She had other things to take care of today.

...

Steve grit his teeth and gripped the doorknob that led into Fury's office. It was the last place in the world he wanted to be. All he wanted to do was sit down with Tony and _talk._ If he had been able to do that, maybe--maybe what had just happened wouldn't have. Maybe Tony would be safe and sound, tucked away in his bed as Steve cuddled him close and kissed him to sleep. 

Tony had always told him to quit focusing on what might've been and just do all the good he could in the time he had then and there. 

Steve might be confused about what Tony had done, but he still knew his lover was a clever man. So he took his advice and stepped into Fury's office, sitting quietly down in front of the desk after saluting him.

"Captain." Fury said. His single eye was inscrutable.  

Steve placed the sheaf of papers down on his desk and smiled nervously.

"Forgive me over my previous actions, sir," he murmured, "and I would like to state now that I will accept any and all punishments related to them. I hope that my completed report might be enough to smooth a few things over?"

"Oh, we'll see, Steve." Nick said, trying not to smile as he privately considered how damn _easy_ it was to manipulate him where Tony was involved, shaking his head and reading over the file.

It told him everything he wanted to know. Tony had been an emotional wreck around his childhood hero, as expected. Steve had been nothing but supportive, empathetic, and caring, as was also expected. The two had bonded, as expected.

There was something missing. But if Fury pried any further, Steve might begin to suspect, and keeping him in the dark was key. So he would have to be subtle...just one question, and if he did not get what he sought, he would let it drop. He needed this to be wrapped up quickly anyway; he had other things to take care of today.

"Before I tell you anything else, Captain, I just have one question." Nick said quietly. Steve nodded.

"Certainly, sir." He said, his voice calm and courteous. Nick looked at him, his gaze calculating.

"Has Tony let you handle the reactor?" He asked. That alone could give him at least some confirmation of romantic feelings, if not an outright relationship. 

Steve nodded eagerly and Nick wanted to outright shout with joy. Things had worked so well in his favor, and they were just so _unsuspecting_ of the whole plan. It was, actually, almost perfect. He could keep Iron Man around to be useful, and had the most powerful, influential figure in America wrapped around his finger. Love really did conquer all.

"Yes, sir," Steve said, "I did put it in the report, but I didn't elaborate much...but if you would like to know, yes!" Steve smiled, as if the memory was pleasant. Fury had no idea why; the reactor was such a hideously alien device. 

"I see," he said, keeping his tone neutral, "well then, since my question has been answered, we can get back to your little issue yesterday about leaving the hospital..."

Steve flinched.

"Yes, sir." He said, his voice small. Fury chuckled. Clearly, Steve expected to be punished. Another point in his favor--after this, Steve would feel even more endebted to him. It now only dug the trap deeper in. He truly loved how the Captain was so predictable. He would but have to choose his next few words carefully...

"The thing is, Steve, considering the rapport you and Tony have built up over this week...it is admirable, even, to have remained behind for a comrade." Fury said, keeping his tone carefullly neutral. "Not only were your actions understandable, but commendable, as commander of the team. The only thing I can ask you to do is to ensure that those actions do not interfere directly with the actions of those above you, Steve." He tsked. "For now, though, I can forgive this transgression. You are in the clear, Captain."

Steve's relief was obvious. Fury smiled. Perfect, then. Keep him a good man for as long as possible. That would keep him in the dark about everything.

"Thank you so much, sir!" Steve said, delight clear in his voice. "Er, before I go, however...am I needed here at base? You see, Tony--"

"It's all right, Captain," Fury told him, "you get home and you take care of Stark. He's not very good at doing it himself, after all."

Steve nodded. For a second, hurt and worry flickered in his eyes, but if Fury noticed it, he didn't say anything about it. 

"He isn't, that's for sure..." Steve murmured. He looked at Fury again before asking hesitantly, "Sir? Am I still allowed to remain at Tony's house?"

"Of course, Captain," Fury told him, "and I suggest you get back there immediately. I'm sure you're needed." He waved a hand at him, gesturing to the door. "Dismissed."

"I...I think I am, sir." Steve agreed quietly. "I will be on call if the team is needed."

He left after that, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. 

Fury went back to his files, making a few notes and references, trying not to smile and failing miserably as all the pieces of his game fell right into position.


	50. Tear Down the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony finds out the truth. There is some soul-searching to be done here. Steve is still the best boyfriend ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's this thing I've been grinding against my teeth, metaphorically speaking, as of late.  
> Is Tony really weepy?  
> Yeah, kinda.  
> I got a comment to that effect on this story, and you know what, they're right. Tony is so overemotional.  
> But you know what? All this is there. This is who Tony is, and thousands of issues of comics and three movies of Tony have basically confirmed that he is an incredibly broken man--with no support, not the way he needs it.  
> The thing is, though...now he has it. He has that devoted lover who will never leave him, who will listen to him and cuddle him ferociously and kiss his forehead and not use him for sex. He never had that before--I love Pepper, but she can never work as his lover, not long-term, because he needs her as a friend and as support more than a lover.  
> So now that Tony has that support, and someone who's willing to tear down the wall he's built up around himself, what happens?  
> He has an emotional breakdown. It's completely understandable. I've seen it happen, I've had it happen, and it's always as messy and whumpy as what's going on right now. No, Tony is not his normal devil-may-care self, but that's always, ALWAYS been a way to distance himself from his problems. Now that he doesn't have to do that, all his problems are roaring to the forefront and leaving him immensely emotional, because he's had thirty-odd years of horrible parenting, terrible life choices, and mental illness to handle. Now that there's someone beside him to do it, is it any wonder he's weepy?  
> So...yeah. That's my reasoning for all this. That, and Steve tends to bring out the overemotional in people. So perfect.  
> This is still Tony, though. That much is clear, (I hope.) But this is Tony as all his old wounds he let fester are getting lanced and all his issues are brought into the light. So yes. He's a bit different. But so is everyone when they're getting healed up.  
> P.S. Happy Fifty Chapters! And here's to many more because I am insane and this fic oh my god.

Tony went down into his lab, of course. He had to see the suit--or what remained of it--for himself. He needed to know just how bad the damage truly was.

He let himself in. JARVIS, perhaps sensing he was already not in the mood, said nothing. Tony went over to his workbench and bit back a harsh, sudden sob. 

The suit lay in pieces on the table like the broken bones of a phoenix, all done up in crimson and gold and ready for the pyre. His hand reached out and flexed as if to grab a piece, uselessly scrabbling for scraps of armor that had been forever ruined--

Except...

Tony went closer, despite the pain that wracked his every movement, both emotional and physical. The armor lay on the table as if it awaited his touch. Tony could never tell it no.

He picked up a piece, expecting ruin and tearing and heartbreak. He expected to feel pain all throughout the armor, as if someone had torn it cruelly from him, ripped it apart.

Except he didn't.

Tony noted that each piece, as he picked them all up and set them out, except for the ones that had been gutted by the snake's scales, had been taken apart by the seams of the armor--like someone had done it with care, so as to ensure that the damage taken was damage that could be repaired.

Tony's hands were shaking as he held each piece and examined it like a mother looking over her child for scrapes and bruises. All of them, save for the beating that the snake had given the armor, were completely unharmed. Each piece had been treated as gently as...

As the way Steve held Tony himself...

Tony's hands were shaking as he picked up his mask, still secured to the inner workings of the armor. His other hand, still trembling, went to grasp at something for comfort and support--by pure chance and nothing more, he hit the part of the armor's inner workings that played back datafeeds.

From the mask and onto the wall in front of him, a projection burst forth, laid out in high definition. The battle played out before him...well, what he could see of it, since this was after the snake had attacked him...and...and...

Steve was standing over him, blood on his face. Why was there blood on his face? What was he doing?

Tony watched numbly as the feed continued. 

"Tony, honey, please hang on." Steve's voice, as gentle and loving as it always was, resonated throughout the lab. Tony could see his hand over the faceplate for a second, as if to stroke his forehead through the armor. 

"You're going to be all right," he promised, "but you have to trust me. And...I'm sorry about this. In advance."

With that, Tony saw Steve tearing off the chestpiece completely, making sure what was left was intact before he put it aside. His touch was as gentle as it was when it fell on Tony's own skin--perhaps even gentler, now that he was dealing with a broken body in front of him.

That got everyone back into action, it seemed, and Tony heard them all calling Steve's name, bolting for the two of them and trying to get Steve to stop. Steve didn't didn't seem to care; he looked focused on getting Tony out of the mangled suit.

Tony closed his eyes for a second to block out fresh pain as he heard Steve sing a soft, gentle lullaby; he didn't know where it was from, but it was beautiful. It soothed him, comforted him, even in the midst of the chaos. As he sang, Tony could see his powerful hands working as carefully as the finest brush of a feather while he took the suit apart. 

Tony was shaking. Steve had been gentle. Steve hadn't wanted to rip the armor away from him. All Steve had wanted to do was...was...

He banished the thought and continued watching. 

The rest of the chestpiece was completely removed and set aside; then Steve took apart the arms, setting the repulsors aside, and Tony watched as Steve began to pry the boots free when, suddenly, the others surrounded him.

"Steve, honey," Pepper began, "I know you think you're helping, but Tony--Tony just made that suit, he's already going to have a lot of repair work to do, and tearing it apart isn't going to make it easier on him..."

Steve looked at her, dried blood on his face and a quietly smoldering fury in his eyes. The look in his eyes, from what Tony could see of it, made him shudder. It meant Steve wanted to protect him. It meant...it meant Steve had been protecting him, oh god...

"Is that what you think matters, Pepper?" He asked. "I don't believe that. You know better. You know the real Tony--you know why I'm doing this."

Tony closed his eyes for another second, his hands still shaking. He felt ill. Steve had...and after all he had said, he...Steve...

"Steve, please..." Pepper sighed. "Look, he's already unconscious; let's just get him to the hospital and get you all home. They'll get the suit off more carefully than just your bare hands--"

The low, guttural growl Steve suddenly made startled Tony halfway out of his seat; his eyes were wide as he looked at the video. It took him a minute to focus on them, too lost in the images, but once he did, the words Steve was saying made his heart ache.

"I don't care about Iron Man." Steve snarled, and the low, rough note to his voice made Tony want to cry. "I want _my Tony_ to be safe. If _Tony Stark_ is safe and sound, he can always make another Iron Man suit. But there will _never_ be another Tony, and it's _him_ I'll defend with my life, at all costs."

Tony stared numbly at what was unfolding in front of him. Steve was still talking. He listened, his mind blank.

"Because he's _mine,_ " Steve murmured, soft and sweet, "and I love _him_. Not the suit. I'll keep _him_ safe. He can always make another _suit_...but I'll never be able to remake _him._ Not if _he_ gets hurt." Steve took Tony's hand and lifted up the faceplate as he spoke. 

That meant the datafeed began to fade, but before it did, Steve leaned down and brushed a kiss on what had to have been his forehead. 

Then the camera went black.

There was silence for about five minutes while everything that had just happened hit Tony with massive force.

Tony stood in his lab, shaking, his eyes wide. Tears dripped freely from them. 

He wanted to rip the reactor from his chest and kill himself right where he stood. 

Self-loathing threatened to crush him as he closed his eyes and sobbed, shaking his head and clenching his fists. 

After all he had said--and this, the truth, Steve had--Steve had just wanted to take care of him--

Steve had _loved him!_ Steve had _loved him,_ and he had just--

"Steve," Tony whimpered brokenly, sobbing as he sank to the floor, his head buried in his hands, "Steve, Steve, _I'm sorry_ , I'm sorry, please, _please_ , I'm sorry, sorry, _sorry.._."

He had been an idiot. He had just wanted to lash out. He had wanted to blame someone for his own stupidity and the damage he had caused his armor, and he had assumed the worst--and maybe he could do that with some people, but not with _Captain America,_ not with _his Steve_ , never--

Except he wasn't "his" Steve anymore. He didn't _deserve_ Steve. He had been rotten and awful and mistrustful and he didn't _deserve_ Steve, and that was okay, because he _never_ had. Now Steve would hate him now, forever and always, because Tony had been just as bad as Pepper said, and so he deserved all the hate Steve could give.

Tony had never, ever deserved someone like Steve. It was better if he left now, before Tony could hurt him anymore. It was good Steve hated him. Tony didn't deserve his love...or even his friendship.

Tony began to bawl, helpless to stop, acutely aware of his heart breaking within his chest and cutting him open on the pieces, like the deadliest shrapnel in the world, cutting him right down to the filaments of his soul. 

"Steve," Tony cried, his voice hoarse with agony, "Steve, please, _please,_ I'm s-sorry, I--I--s-sorry, _sorry_ , Steve, Steve, _Steve._.."

Tony's eyes were clenched shut, so he only heard the soft whirr of the door opening and the footfalls upon the cool lab floor, and he only felt rather than saw Steve's arms wrapping around him.

 Then, he only felt his lips against his ear as he whispered in a voice meant only for Tony, "Hush, Tony. You're all right. You're going to be okay. Just let me hold you."

For a second, Tony let himself dream things would be okay--that Steve had come back and they could make up. 

Then he reminded himself of who he was.

"Don't deserve it," Tony sobbed, trying in vain to wriggle out of Steve's embrace, "don't _deserve it_ , please, please _stop_ , Steve, Steve, _Steve_ \--"

"I'm right here, sweetheart," Steve whispered, "and I'm not going anywhere. You're going to be just fine, Tony. Please relax. You're going to make yourself ill if you keep crying..."

"Deserve it!" Tony wailed, inconsolable. " _Deserve it_! Horrible, rotten, miserable fucking _waste of space_ , leave me _alone,_ Steve, just go find someone _else,_ someone _better_ \--"

"Tony, ssh..." Steve soothed him, trying to ignore his own panic and heartache as he stroked Tony's hair, before he murmured, "Why don't we talk about this? Just tell me what happened."

"I saw everything!" Tony confessed, hysterical. "I saw all of it happen, and I didn't _know,_ I didn't--I thought--I thought you wanted me to stop being Iron Man, and that'd mean I wouldn't be _worth anything_ anymore, and I--I didn't know you saved me, I'm sorry, _I'm sorry_ \--"

"Hush, baby," Steve whispered, "calm down. Calm down. Hush. Rest, Tony. Calm down." He cradled Tony in his arms, situating him so that Tony could be both comfortable and snug against Steve's chest, like he had been, safe and sound, only this morning.

"You're gonna leave now, right?" Tony murmured, his voice soft with agony. "You're gonna walk away 'cause I'm a selfish, callous fuck who doesn't deserve you. You can. It's okay. I don't blame you. I was a rash, stubborn pain in the ass..."

"Tony, you were scared that the one thing in the world that you thought more important than anything was ruined beyond repair." Steve said, his voice firm yet gentle as he ran a hand through Tony's hair. "You thought the armor--the only thing you measure your self-worth by, even--was completely destroyed. You were scared and you weren't thinking. I understand. And that means I'm not angry." He shook his head. "I just want you to learn something. From the conversation...and from what I said..."

Tony was quiet for a second, considering.

"...You need me..." Tony whispered, his voice soft and hopeful, "you need me, because you love...me. Not the Iron Man suit..."

"Yes, Tony," Steve said, his voice warm and loving, "but that isn't everything."

He knew Tony would understand. He _had to_. He was brilliant and beautiful and perfect in every way. He would _learn_. That was why Steve was here!

"I..." Tony's brow furrowed as he thought, tilting his head in concentration. "I think, maybe...Pepper said Iron Man is just...a shell for Tony Stark to hide in. And in battle, that's okay, because Iron Man can take damage I can't...but in real life...I have to be Tony, right? And Tony isn't Iron Man. Tony..."

"Tony is beautiful and perfect as he is, and he doesn't need to be Iron Man to matter to me," Steve interrupted, his voice thick with emotion, "and he never needed to in the first place!"

Tony blinked, before a smile crept slow and sweet across his face. Steve blushed.

"Err, sorry," he apologized, "I just...had to tell you that."

"It's okay..." Tony whispered. "Really, it's fine. I...I'm...I don't know what to say." He swallowed. 

"Pep said...Pep said I made you cry..." He murmured. "...Did I?"

Steve was quiet. After a minute of deliberating, though, he sighed and nodded.

"Yes," he replied, "but only because I was scared for you. I was so worried you would hurt yourself because you were angry and scared..."

"...I..." Tony closed his eyes and sniffled. He didn't want to cry. It would just hurt Steve. He wouldn't cry.

"Steve?" He whispered. "I promise not to hurt myself when I'm angry or scared...if...if it'll make sure I don't make you cry." Tony inhaled sharply, clearly trying to hold back tears. "I didn't mean to--I--I never wanted t-to make you _c-cry_ \--"

"Tony, baby, I know..." Steve soothed him, rubbing his back and kissing his forehead, staving off tears with his touch. Tony snuggled close and murmured something incoherent, just mews and whimpers. Steve kissed his cheek.

"Tony, calm down. There's no reason to be sad. I was never angry at you. I just want you to understand that you are more important to me than Iron Man. And...you need to realize that Iron Man can be replaced...but you can't. You're what's really important, Tony. And you need to treat yourself like you are from now on, okay?" He whispered.

Tony shook his head and was quiet for a minute.

"T-that's...that's really hard to do, Steve," Tony confessed, "I mean, just...I don't really know how. I...I can't do it on my own." He blinked, hard, clearly trying not to cry. "Please help me. I..." Tony swallowed. 

He had never outright said it before. Steve had done it anyway--he had never needed to be asked. He had just...cared that much, it seemed, though Tony would never understand _why..._

This was going to kill him to ask for. But he had to. Because it was Steve. Because this was the man he had dreamed of for his entire life. Because, just for once, just with this one person, if he asked for it, Tony knew he would get what he truly needed.

"Please help me, Steve," Tony whispered. "Please help me take care of myself. If I can't...if I can't be Iron Man...I don't know how to be Tony Stark. Not by myself."

"I know, sweetheart," Steve replied gently, "and that's why I'm here. We're going to take care of you, together, but you have to work with me on that, okay?" He sighed. "And that means trusting me."

"M'sorry about today," Tony mumbled, "you're right. Didn't trust you. Sorry."

"It's okay, Tony." Steve said, his voice warm and loving as he pecked Tony on the cheek. Tony snuggled closer into his embrace. Steve stroked his hair. 

"All I ask from now on is that you remember that Tony Stark is more important than Iron Man and at least _listen_ when I try to get you to act accordingly." Steve's eyes shone with amusement as he kissed the top of Tony's head. "After all, I can't kiss Iron Man like I can kiss you, can I?" He teased lightly. 

Tony trembled at the thought of Steve kissing him in any way at all, to be honest. 

He snuggled closer and smiled, taking Steve's hand and kissing it lightly.

"No, I guess not..." He murmured. "But, uh, Steve?" He looked up at him, still hesitant. "I...I can still _be_ Iron Man, right?" He asked.

Steve hugged him tight.

"Of course, sweetheart," Steve promised, "because Iron Man is _only_ another way for Tony Stark to be a good man, right?"

"Mmkay." Tony mumbled, content. 

Another piece of the wall built of Tony's many, many neuroses tumbled down. 

Tony rested in Steve's arms, completely at peace.

"Darling?" Steve whispered suddenly, his voice soft. "We still need to talk. Not about this, but...about, err...this. This relationship, I mean." He amended hastily. 

Tony nodded, still half-asleep. Steve couldn't help but smile.

"Of course," Steve murmured, "that can happen after you've rested up for a little while longer, can't it, my love?" He whispered.

At the word love, a shiver ghosted down Tony's spine, and he moaned despite himself. Steve smiled and kissed his forehead.

"I'll take that as a yes," he whispered, "and I'll carry you up to bed now, then, I think. Would you like me to stay with you?"

Tony nodded eagerly. Steve grinned and stood up, taking Tony with him as he headed out of the lab, calling back to JARVIS, "Can you have everything set up in Tony's room, please?"

_"Certainly, Captain. There will be food and medicine waiting for you both up there, as well._ " JARVIS responded. _"I will ensure nothing will disturb either of you while Tony recuperates."_

"Thanks, JARVIS." Tony mumbled, falling asleep even as Steve made his way up the steps and into their bedroom. Calling it their bedroom sent a shiver of delight through Steve's entire body, and he settled Tony in with a light heart, slipping him his medicine and making sure he took it before he fled to his room to get changed quickly and shower even faster, coming back to Tony half-naked and still warm from the shower.

Tony grinned sleepily, beckoning him closer. Steve crawled into bed and got in without a word, cradling Tony closer and kissing the top of his head. 

"Get some rest, Tony," Steve murmured, "and I promise, things will look much better then. I've got you. I'll never let go again."

"Mmkay," Tony murmured in return. "I trust you, Steve."

Steve kissed his forehead. The love shining in his eyes was so genuine it almost hurt Tony to realize he was the recipient of such pure, true love.

"I know, Tony," Steve whispered, "and I am honored that you do."

The two snuggled so closer that Tony mused if he would have the lines of Steve's muscles imprinted on his back by the time he woke up. Before that thought could make any kind of sense, Tony was asleep, his breathing slow and soft.

Once he had assured himself that Tony was safe and sound, Steve kissed the top of his head and smiled, joining him in that slumber.

He hadn't gotten to talk to Tony yet today, not really...but he already felt like he had made at least a little progress. 


	51. Bedtime Vigils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper and Steve have a talk. Pepper is a good friend to Tony, forever. Steve is naive. Pepper and Natasha are bros. Pepper and Bruce are adorable. And Thor, for some reason, is allowed to make dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pepper/Bruce is a weird OTP in that I liked it sort of when I threw it together and now it's enough of an OTP that I cry that no one else will write it ever because I literally made it up on the spot. See: my obsession with Victoria Hand/Maria Hill. Why, god. Why do you give me OTPs literally no one else ships. And in this case, make no sense outside of the context of this fic. Legit, is there any reason to ship this in canon? Not really. Does my brain care? No.  
> Anyways, yeah, Pepper and Tony...I just love the two of them. They really are such good friends, so devoted and dedicated, and Pepper's so protective of Tony and once Tony gets his shit together he responds in kind, and I just--they're wonderful to each other. Just not as lovers. If they're lovers, it's a codependent clusterfuck mixed with sex and yelling. As friends, though? They are one of my ultimate brotps.  
> So Steve being cute and Natasha and Pepper being badass together like always. I love those two and their friendship so hard and wish it was remarked upon more in the movieverse.  
> Oh and a bit of a teaser; Loki returns in a few chapters. Just to keep you all on your toes...

All Pepper received from Steve in terms of a text until she came home that night was, _"He's safe._ " 

It was a relief, of course, but it didn't tell her everything she wanted to know...which was exactly why she was pulling up to the house with such a heavy heart.

Pepper sighed and got out of the car, pulling her jacket tighter around herself as JARVIS let her in. He didn't even bother to ask where she was going; from the way she stormed up the stairs and from the expression on her face, he could tell she was looking for Tony.

She flung the door open, panic rising in her heart and making her feel ill, her eyes wide as she surveyed the darkened room frantically. It was only once her eyes fell on his bed, which was illuminated by the light of the reactor, that she could relax.

Steve was curled up around Tony, cuddling him close and stroking his hair, making sure the covers were situated around his shoulders and keeping him warm as Tony leaned against Steve's shoulder and slept peacefully, unawares of Pepper's sudden arrival. Steve just smiled as he saw her.

"Ssh," he murmured gently, "Tony's sleeping. I don't want to wake him..."

"Neither do I..." Pepper sighed with relief, sagging against the doorframe, running a hand through her hair and groaning, shaking her head as she looked at him. "I was so _scared_ , Steve."

Steve blinked and tilted his head as he cuddled Tony closer, as if to protect him from some unseen threat. His bearing became more tense, his muscles ripping beneath his skin, and Pepper couldn't help but stare in awed shock at the change in Steve; from a gentle lover to a mighty avenger, determined to defend and protect. Steve met her eyes, and it took all her strength not to shudder.

"What frightened you, Pepper?" He asked, his voice deceptively soft. Pepper sighed and gestured to the bed.

Steve nodded hastily, a blush forming across his cheeks; the avenger was gone and the gentleman was back in his place. Pepper couldn't help but admit to feeling more than a little relieved by that.

"Oh--yes, sorry! I'm sorry, it's awfully rude not to offer a lady a seat, but I..." Steve gestured to Tony with his free hand and grinned. Pepper just smiled at him and kissed his cheek before sitting down on the bed.

"Thank you, Steve," she murmured. She relaxed slightly now that she was assured of Tony's safety and calmed by Steve's presence; the relaxation gave her the incentive to continue, "I guess I was just...scared for Tony...like you were." She swallowed. "I thought he was going to hurt himself before you got back, to be honest."

Steve clenched him tight--not tight enough to awaken him, but enough to satisfy Steve's need to defend and protect. His eyes were becoming sharp and fierce again, but a fear lurked behind them as well this time--a fear that he could not protect Tony from the one thing Tony needed protection from the most.

"Does that...could he...has that _happened_ before?" Steve whispered, his voice frightened and hoarse, a ragged, rough edge to it. Pepper shrugged haplessly, worried of what she might say that would set the Captain off. He deserved the truth, however...so Pepper gave him exactly that, to the best of her ability.

"Yes, for a given definition of self-harm. He didn't cut or anything...but he would run himself ragged and drink while he worked, and he'd end up hurting himself working on a project and keep going anyway...and without either of us here and only JARVIS to keep an eye on him, I was worried he'd harm himself trying to repair the armor." Pepper sighed. "Did he find out about--"

"What I did? The truth, you mean?" Steve finished for her. He sighed with relief. "Yes. He did...and he was...oh, Pep. He was _crying_..." He kissed the top of Tony's head. "He was so scared I was going to leave. One little infraction and he thought I would leave him." Steve stroked his hair and shook his head. There was such tenderness in his gesture, but there was resignation as well, and a pain unique to lovers as he sighed and looked at her.

"I...I have a lot of work to do, don't I?" Steve whispered. 

It wasn't really a question, but Pepper nodded anyway. Steve sighed.

"It's worth it," he murmured, "but I still need to talk to him about it! Neither of us have had time to sit down and just... _talk_ to each other, alone...you know, about, well, _everything_. And we need to have that talk so we both understand each other a little better, but there's been no chance to do so..."

"Well, everyone's managed to find their way back to Coulson's house already," Pepper said quietly, "and there's food in the fridge for dinner tonight, so...how about we leave you two alone for the night? That way, whatever happens between you two remains private..." 

Steve brightened up at the idea, nodding eagerly at the suggestion and kissing her cheek.

"That would be swell, Pep," he murmured. "Thank you so much..."

"It's no trouble, Steve. You two deserve that time alone together." Pepper said, trying not to smile at the honest relief and happiness on Steve's face. "I do have one question, though..." She sighed. She didn't particularly want to ask this one, but she knew it was important. Hell, it was part of the reason why she had come back home.

"...How did the meeting with Fury go?" She asked.

Steve surprised her by smiling again, snuggling closer to Tony and sighing with relief.

"He _understood_ , Pep, like I knew he would!" Steve managed to both be clearly delighted and speak in no higher than a whisper. "He said he understood and just for me to be more careful that I didn't let my orders and decisions interfere with the orders of my superiors. Plus, he let me stay! And I think he meant _forever_ , Pepper!" 

"...I see..." Pepper mused, shaking her head and putting on a smile as quickly as she could. Steve wouldn't understand why she was pensive, and it might make him ask questions she couldn't answer yet--which would mean she might have to lie to, of all people, Captain America. She wasn't sure if she could handle that.

"Anyways...I'm just glad you got to take care of Tony, Steve," she rushed hurriedly, trying not to let her apprehensions show, "and that Fury understood. I...I just..." She sighed. "God, Steve, I'm sorry. I can't stop thinking about today, and Tony, and I--"

"Pep, hush..." Steve soothed her, taking his free hand and stroking her hair, tender and careful; as he did, he murmured in her ear, very gently, "Listen, Pepper, Tony's not going to hurt himself. Not while I'm around--even when he's angry at me. Because he knows, deep in his heart, that I'll always love him and forgive him. And that I'm going to come back and take care of him as soon as I know he's ready." Steve sighed. "You're not the only person taking care of him anymore, Pepper, which is hard to adjust to...but you'll find that you're going to get a lot of relief from not being the only one anymore. Okay?"

Pepper nodded, tears in her eyes as she gripped his hand. Years of pain, the time spent feeling alone in the greatest fight of her life and shouldering the weight of the world on her back was being eased, slowly, off her shoulders and into strong, careful hands. Steve knew, so he gave her a moment to collect herself, breathing in slow, sharp gasps.

"Mmkay," she finally mumbled through a throat choked up with emotion, "I understand. But...but I can..." She swallowed back tears. "I can...still take care of him, right? And...yell at him when he screws up? And tell him to eat dinner? And make sure he doesn't hurt himself?"

Steve smiled. He understood, Pepper knew. Of _course_ he did, he was perfect. Pepper wanted to hug him so much she actually hurt from resisting the urge.

"Of course you can, Pepper," Steve promised, "because you know I could never yell at him, and you know just what to say to make him eat...and there can never be enough people who care enough about Tony to make sure he doesn't hurt himself." He kissed her forehead. "The only thing that's changed is that you're not doing it alone anymore."

"A...ahuh," Pepper agreed, trying not to break down in tears, "guess s-so. I...I just...want to...say goodnight..."

"Okay, Pep. Go right ahead." Steve told her, his voice calming as he gripped her hand and let her kiss Tony's forehead. She stroked some hair from his face and smiled through her tears.

"Goodnight, you reckless brat," Pepper said, her voice full of love and affection, "and just let Steve and I take care of you, okay? You're going to be all right, Tony. I promise." She closed her eyes.

"I love you," she whispered, and there was sadness there, but true love and understanding, which outshone the sadness, in the end, "I love you so much, Tony..."

Before she could completely lose her composure, Pepper got up off the bed and made it to the door. Just before she stepped over the threshold, however, Tony stirred in his sleep.

"Love you too, you overbearing nag," Tony murmured, his voice full of love and affection, "and I'll be fine without you. You go rest, Pep. I can take care of myself a little too, y'know. 'Cause of everything you did to help." He closed his eyes again and snuggled close to Steve, yawning widely and settling back in. "Goodnight..."

Pepper watched him sleep for a second, her eyes filled with tears. Steve looked away to give her a moment of privacy. 

Before he looked back, she had made her way down the steps and out of the house. He could hear her crying on the way down and all the way out to the car, until she finally got in and drove away.

Steve sighed, but there was a smile on his face as he kissed Tony's head gently and snuggled underneath the covers with him, cradling him close and kissing his forehead until he fell asleep beside him, his lips still pressed against Tony's skin, caught by sleep mid-kiss.

...

Natasha didn't question the tears in Pepper's eyes as her friend stood in her doorway. She just pulled her inside, murmuring comforts in Russian and situating her on the couch, stroking her hair.

"You are well?" She murmured. Pepper nodded. Natasha relaxed. "Tony, then?" She asked. "How is he?"

"Fine..." She said, her voice hoarse. "I let Steve take care of him. That's okay, right?"

"It is more than okay, Pepper," Natasha promised, "it was the right thing to do. As long as Tony has Steve, he will be fine. You must rest." 

"God, it seems like the second I stop taking care of Tony, everyone wants to take care of me..." Pepper murmured.

Natasha pecked her cheek gently and wrapped a cream-colored blanket around her shoulders. She sat beside Pepper and pulled her into an embrace, stroking her hair and giving her a moment to collect herself before pulling away to look at her. Natasha's gaze was stern, but understanding, and she was tender as she pushed a few stray strands of hair from Pepper's face.

"Perhaps it is because before, you were too wrapped up in Tony to accept any help..." Natasha murmured thoughtfully, "but now, you are free to be on your own, and since that is always a confusing and tumultuous time, we can finally give you the care you deserve."

"Dunno," Pepper replied, "don't care. Tired. Worn out. Where's everyone?" 

"Phil is upstairs in bed..." Natasha sighed. "My love, he gets these stress migraines and I worry so much, but S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors say it is simply stress, there is nothing they can do, and it makes me so angry..."

"You're taking care of him," Pepper told her, "and that's what matters."

"Yes," Natasha agreed, a small smile on her face, "for he would do the same for me." She shook her head. "He has taken care of me before, in fact..." She sighed.

"Regardless, Clint is upstairs with him. My darling has clever hands, and they are good at finding where Phil feels the most stress and working it from his body." Natasha said, stretching out on the couch and laying her head against one of the throw pillows. "Thor is in the kitchen. And--"

"Bruce made dinner, so you eat up."

The voice was quiet and gentle and instantly recognizable. Pepper smiled the second it hit her, relief plain on her face as Bruce set down a tray of dinner on her lap, his hands shaking just a little as he pulled them away. 

"And Bruce was in the kitchen, helping Thor with dinner." Natasha said, trying not to smile and failing. "We all decided to give Steve and Tony their space in the mansion. They need the time to work things out."

"Yes...yes, they do," Pepper murmured, shaking her head and laughing, telling them, "and not only that, but I'm impressed; we seemed to have the same train of thought. I just went and discussed everything with them and told them to spend some time alone..." She sighed. "And...well, Steve and I talked about Fury, too..."

"Oh, dear," Natasha murmured, her expression suddenly sharpening and her eyes glinting, "how did that discussion go?"

"See, there's the thing," Pepper said, frustration clear on her face, "Steve...Steve is grateful! I don't know what Fury's telling him, but he just goes on about how Fury understood when he stayed behind with Tony, and how he's "letting" Steve stay at our house, and it just doesn't feel right; like there's something deeper at work!"

"There probably is." Natasha murmured. "It is Fury, after all." She frowned. "Did he say anything else?"

"Steve said he told him something to the effect of "for him to be more careful that he didn't let his orders and decisions interfere with the orders of his superiors."" Pepper told them. Natasha nodded.

"That...is ominous," she murmured quietly, "and in all truth, not a very good sign. The truth remains that we must be vigilant about Fury." She looked up before looking back at Pepper and whispering in her ear, "We cannot say much else here. There is always the possibility that S.H.I.E.L.D. has this house bugged. Back at Tony's mansion, then."

"All right..." Pepper agreed, her voice hesitant as she put a gentle hand on Natasha's shoulder and squeezed. "Nat, honey, I think you need to rest. We can discuss anything and everything else later. You ought to go upstairs and go to bed. You can't let yourself fall by the wayside when you're taking care of everyone else, hm?" Pepper said, her tone light. Natasha yawned and nodded, taking a few bites of what had been made for dinner before standing up.

"I am afraid there is only one bed--the house came that way, and for obvious reasons, we never did get around to getting another bed..." Natasha smiled at that. "In any case, you are all right with sleeping on the couches?"

"Of course," Pepper said, "there's one for Thor to have to himself, and the bigger one can be split between Bruce and I. We'll be fine. You go rest." She pecked Natasha lightly on the cheek and pushed her gently towards the steps. "I'll see you in the morning, Nat."

"All right..." Natasha sighed and hugged her tight, murmuring, "take care of yourself, Pepper. I will do the same."

Pepper let her go upstairs before sighing heavily and heading back to the living room, meeting Bruce's eyes. He smiled at her, clearly delighted by her simple presence. Pepper couldn't remember the last time she'd had someone she had dated who wasn't Tony be happy just to see her.

She laid her head against his shoulder as she sat down on the couch. His hand went to hers, squeezing gently. 

"M'so tired," she murmured, "tired of everyone needing me. Tired of needing to be taken care of. Just tired in general."

"I understand, Pepper," Bruce murmured softly. "It's all right. Just...let go for a little while. Relax, okay?"

Pepper snuggled closer despite her reservations about how fast this was going, kicking off her shoes and situating herself so that she was laying down on the couch, content. Bruce chuckled, amused, and stroked her hair. Considering the way his hand felt as it toyed with her hair, Pepper decided then and there that she really did not, in fact, care about the speed of this relationship, so long as he continued to stroke her like that. It was the most relaxing thing she had ever experienced.

"Rest, then," he told her, his voice gentle, "rest for a little while and just enjoy some peace. I'll stay here with you. I'll protect you, okay?"

"From what, the monsters under the bed?" Pepper teased, grinning up at him, already half-asleep. Bruce growled playfully as he laid on the couch beside her, situating the two of them comfortably as he kicked off his shoes and settled in. 

"No, because we're on the couch," he reminded her, nuzzling her cheek. "I'll save you from the big snarly dust bunnies, darling Virginia."

"Oh, hush." Pepper mumbled, but she was smiling and blushing, and he was rewarded for his teasing with a kiss to the cheek. Bruce grinned. That was a pretty good incentive to keep teasing her, all things considered.

Before they could continue, however, she had settled in against him, her body situated against his like it fit against every nook and cranny of his own, her face buried into his neck. He could feel her breathing slowing down; she was asleep in seconds.

Bruce sighed, both amused and dismayed, and kissed the top of her head.

"Rest, then, Pepper," he murmured, "and I promise, if you need me...I'll take care of you, even in your dreams."

He closed his eyes and joined her in sleep, twin smiles on their faces.


	52. A Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Steve talk. There are feels fucking everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know.  
> I think it's because I'm not currently in a good place, mentally, but this chapter makes me nervous. I worry you won't like it. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I just...I'm sorry. I feel like this is treacely and dumb and ridiculous. I edited it. I did my best. I'm so sorry. I just...I just hope you like it, I really do. I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry.  
> Tony hasn't had a feels attack in awhile, either. Just...I liked what was said about the emotional-ness sometimes being overbearing; this would technically be a private experience, and thus, free to have emotional stuff...but since you're experiencing it like it's public...it's different. I don't know. I'm sorry. I hope this chapter's good, I'm so sorry if you don't like it. I just...hope it's up to snuff. Please enjoy. And if you don't, please forgive me.

Steve opened his eyes next and checked the clock beside him. It was almost eleven, but Tony was still sleeping soundly, snuggled against Steve's chest. Steve sighed. So much for a sound sleep schedule...but Tony needed to rest, so he could just catch up on more sleep tomorrow while Steve was at work.

Steve frowned at the thought. He would have to go back to work tomorrow...and leave Tony alone. Well, not alone--with JARVIS, but even then...Steve wanted to be the one there with him, holding him tight and stroking his hair and making sure his aches and pains were tended to with loving care. JARVIS was a good companion, of course, but he didn't have hands--he couldn't hold Tony like Steve could.

Steve smiled and snuggled closer, rubbing Tony's back until he yawned, stirring against Steve and looking up into his eyes. Tony's eyes were warm and hazy with sleep, sparkling with love as he kissed Steve's nose tenderly.

"Hi." Tony mumbled, his voice rough and low with sleep. Steve grinned and cuddled him, situating him so he was warm and snug, tucked away in his arms, safe against his chest.

"Hi, yourself." Steve cooed, his voice gentle and delicate. He kissed Tony's forehead and began to stroke his hair.

The two laid there for a few minutes, returning to their senses and watching time tick by. Then Steve finally sighed, kissing the top of Tony's head.

"Are you ready to talk, darling?" Steve murmured. Tony nodded, snuggling closer and looking up at him, the light of the reactor catching his eyelashes' shadows on his cheekbones. 

"I think so..." Tony said. "Let's just go get something to eat first, okay?"

 Steve nodded in slow agreement, trying not to show how worried he was. Tony wriggled out of his grasp and headed towards the doorway. Steve's arms twitched reflexively as he tried in vain to grab Tony and hold him close again, as if to protect him. The feeling only intensified when he caught the bruises that marred Tony's skin, the ugly stitches that stood out stark against his lightly tanned body.

Steve followed behind him into the kitchen with a big, fluffy blanket in hand, only stopping back at his room quickly to pull on a tee shirt so as to be able to have a serious conversation. He suspected Tony wouldn't be able to have one if he was snuggled against him shirtless.

Steve couldn't help but laugh at that, shaking his head in amusement as he made his way down into the kitchen beside Tony. It suddenly occurred to him, then, the weight of Tony's decision, and he smiled with delight.

"I'm very proud of you, Tony," Steve murmured gently, "especially for eating like you're supposed to."

Tony stuck his tongue out at him for a second, but as Steve laughed, he saw Tony preening over his compliment, clearly thrilled that Steve had noticed. 

The two rifled through the fridge, piling together a few sandwiches and pouring glasses of soda. Steve got medicine from the cabinet--Tony had actually put the medicine Athena had given him up in the medicine cabinet before he had went downstairs. The fact that Tony really was starting to take care of himself and be careful about his needs made Steve's heart seize up as he smiled with sheer relief.

He turned around to see Tony holding two cartons of ice cream and pouting at him; lip quivering, eyes wide. Steve chuckled.

"After you eat dinner, young man." He teased, ruffling Tony's hair. Tony grinned and set the ice cream beside the sandwiches anyway, grabbing two spoons.

Steve carried the blanket into the living room, Tony following behind and setting the sandwiches down, snuggling onto Steve's lap as Steve wrapped the blanket around him, cradling him close and kissing the top of his head. He was so happy that, for a minute, he couldn't speak. 

"I dreamed of this, you know," he finally said, as the two of them were halfway through their sandwiches, having forsaken them in favor of ice cream, "I dreamed of just...the two of us, on the couch together, cuddling and eating ice cream and talking...about what we could be...about this..."

Tony was quiet for a little while. Then he shrugged.

"I didn't dare dream." He remarked, his voice small and sad. "But now that it's a reality...it's really nice. Being with you."

"I should hope so," Steve teased lightly, kissing his cheek and hugging him, "because all I want to do is be with you, Tony." He sighed. "But...we're going to have to talk about that."

"I know." Tony agreed, sighing heavily and snuggling against him. He closed his eyes for a second and squeezed Steve's hand, as if to draw strength from it. "So...what do you want to talk about?"

"Well, err...what would you like to say?" Steve ventured hesitantly. He realized just then how very out of his league he was; the only relationship he had been in was with Peggy, and that hadn't been...well, it hadn't been slow and well-paced. Neither of them had ever really sat down and talked about what their relationship was and what it meant to them...

Still. He would have to try. For Tony's sake alone. 

"You first, please?" Tony said. He sounded timid, as if he was afraid Steve was going to snap. Steve sighed and kissed the top of his head.

"Of course, sweetie. Don't feel bad about asking me to do that." He scolded him gently, enfolding him further into the embrace of the blanket. Tony grumbled under his breath. Steve just kissed his cheek. 

"Well...I think the truth is..." Steve sighed. "Oh, Tony. I'm so nervous. But I'm so happy at the same time!" He grinned, his eyes sparkling. "I mean...I'd dreamed of this almost since I met you, at least in some way. I mean...part of me didn't know if it was possible. Part of me was worried that I was just desperate or lonely, and mistaking brotherhood for true love. But..." Steve smiled.

"I thought about it, and I wanted to hold you tight...and I wanted to kiss you, sometimes, when I looked at you...I wanted to help you, and hold you through your troubles, and I needed to be there with you, learning not just about the future, but the life I'm meant to lead..." Steve smiled, murmuring, "...and I really wanted to be the one that not only held you and took care of you, but stayed with you forever." 

Tony closed his eyes as he listened, as if he was drinking in the words better that way. Steve continued on now, shifting nervously as he considered a few other things.

"I wanted to court you, like a gentleman ought; with tenderness and sweet gestures. I didn't want this to go as fast as it did..." Steve sighed and shook his head, murmuring, "but I can't say I'll complain too much..."

"So...you're happy?" Tony finally asked. Steve nodded, murmuring quiet assent. Tony opened his eyes and looked up at him. There was something there that Steve didn't quite understand, but he knew he liked it. 

 "Then...maybe it's okay that it went so fast. Because...it was meant to happen, and controlling something that's supposed to happen is impossible..." Tony sighed, adding, "I mean...like hurricanes. You can't stop a hurricane, and they usually come faster than you think." Tony's eyes glimmered and he grinned. "So...I'm a hurricane." Tony said cheerfully. "It's not god, but it'll do."

"Your ego is showing." Steve teased. Tony just kissed his cheek.

The two sat in silence for a little longer. Then Steve sighed, beginning his story again.

"I guess...I'm just...I know we have a lot of obstacles ahead of us, still," Steve murmured, "and that's part of it--I didn't want to have a relationship until you were ready...and I just...Tony?" Steve looked at him, and Tony knew then that he would be powerless to lie underneath the warm force of the hurricane in Steve's eyes. 

"Are you ready for this relationship?" Steve asked.

Tony sat in silence for a long few minutes. Steve didn't mind; he had nowhere to go, and nowhere he wanted to be more than with Tony on this couch...even if what Tony said meant Tony might walk away from him and leave him sitting there alone.

"I'd like to think so, and maybe part of me is," Tony remarked, his tone dry and soft and so full of self-loathing that it hurt Steve's heart to hear him speak, "but there's a part of me that will never, ever deserve a person as amazing as you, and that part of me has a very loud voice." Tony blinked, clearly trying to hold back tears and failing. "And maybe it's right. Whether I'm ready for a "relationship" or not...I'm not ready for a relationship with you, Steve."

Steve was very quiet. He didn't let go of Tony, though. He suspected that nothing, in that moment, could have made him let go of the man that curled against him, as if seeking protection.

"Why don't you believe that, Tony?" Steve finally trusted his voice enough to speak. "Please just tell me. If you can."

Tony looked up at him, dark humor clouding the warmth and love in his eyes, like a storm that obscured the sun.

"Have you not actually been here the past week, or...?" Tony shook his head and sighed. "Steve, there are plenty of reasons why I don't believe I, Tony Stark, the slutty alcoholic with no attention span or personal life management skills, deserves the most beautiful, brave, honest, and devastatingly sweet and wholesome man that has ever or will ever walk this earth. Let me give you the basics." 

Steve wanted to speak. He wanted to hold Tony close and tell him all the ways he did, in fact, "deserve" him, (as if it was about deserving, god forbid!), but he knew that Tony wouldn't listen. He had a long list of regrets and pain to confess, and Steve knew every little mistake would still be there to hurt Tony and make his suffering worse. There was no use in bandaging the wound while it was still infected, so to speak. 

So Steve sat there quietly and let Tony lance the wound and get all the infection out. Only then could he use careful hands and gentle words to apply balm to the skin and soothe a tortured soul.

"Well, let's see. I'm an emotionally volatile fuck up because of decades of paternal abuse who can't seem to shine enough light to make his way out of his dad's fucking shadow, I let my inventions consume me to the point where I'm not sure where I end and the technology begins, I drink, which, as you've helpfully demonstrated, is for one reason or another some emotionally trying thing for you, I have had sex with literally dozens of women, more than half of whom have abused me due to my own crippling weaknesses to the point where I would bet smart money I am unable to get it up unless the person in question is trying to hurt me either physically or emotionally..." Tony began.

At this, Steve stared in horror, but Tony wasn't listening, continuing on, his hands wildly flying about in half-mad gestures like starving birds trying to beat at the air one last time.

"I regularly put myself in suicidal situations because I either want to die or to at least get close enough to feel something, I am self-loathing and self-harming in a variety of ways that all end in pain for myself and those around me, I hurt my friends on a constant basis, I cannot let people in to help me with my multitudes of emotional problems, sometimes I am just too goddamned smart for my own good, my mouth doesn't seem to have a connection to my brain, especially in regards to tact, I push people away to prove myself right that no one will love me, I find my self worth through a machine, my money, and my cock, and that's about it, I have terrible issues with finding myself worthy of your touch, your very fucking presence, and that makes it alternately exhilirating and painful to love you so much so that I literally cannot fucking breathe when I look at you, Steve, and I..." Tony closed his eyes and sighed.

"I am not a very good man, dear. I am not even a halfway decent man. I am a miserable, self-loathing, mentally-unstable wreck of a human being that is only worth anything to the few people in his life that attempt to bother with his sorry ass anymore specifically because I hide in a shiny metal suit so I can pretend Tony Stark doesn't exist for a little while. So the spineless, miserable shit that I am can be held upright by a backbone of iron for as long as possible." Tony said, shooting Steve a look that made him so numb with pain that he didn't realize for a minute or two that he was sobbing openly now.

He was so unsure of what to do or say in the face of every facet of Tony's neuroses and problems revealing themselves. It was akin to lifting up an innocuous stone to find a writhing mass of maggots beneath. He was helpless in the face of that mighty wall, which had been built up over decades of abuse and constant belittlement from the world around him, coupled with the curious mix of celebrity and self-hate, mixed well with the solidifying tonic of inferiority complexes and immense amounts of pain.

He had been at this for just a week...and yet...

And yet, Steve reminded himself, he had sent more of this wall crumbling down than anyone else had in the decades that had preceded his arrival. So maybe all hope was not lost. At least, not yet.

"So that's why I don't think I deserve you." Tony finished, his voice flat. He leaned against Steve's chest and closed his eyes again.

"There are other reasons," he added, "but those are the general gist of things." He chuckled. It was a dark sound. There was no humor in it. 

Steve knew Tony still had things to get out, so he just waited. The wound was flowing freely now, and not even Tony, with all his skill at dissembling and hiding his problems, coud bandage it back up again.

"And I mean, I'm taking you away from some pretty twenty-something with a smile like spun sugar and hair as fine and shining as gold, with the perkiest breasts this side of a porn star and legs that go on for miles, and the innocent, wide-eyed look of a newborn fawn, I am certain of it," Tony remarked, his tone almost aimless; the pain poured out freely now, with no clear direction, "and she would have needed you, but not as badly as I do, so she wouldn't have been as fucked up as me, and you would've loved her because you didn't have to babysit her, and you would've fallen in love and gotten married within a week, and I would've been best man at that beautiful all-American wedding, and I would've smiled through the whole ceremony, and then I would have probably gone home and killed myself." Tony shrugged. 

The thought of Tony _dead_ or suicidal because of _him_ , because of something _he_ might do, something he might _fail_ to do, because of _any reason at all_ , really, made Steve gasp softly with the sharpest agony he had felt in decades. All he could see for a second was Bucky, falling, and for a second after, Tony's body beside his.

Steve began to tremble. Tony didn't notice. He couldn't. Steve _refused_ to let Tony see his pain. Not until his own was healed and tended to. Steve _would not_ let Tony suffer.

"At any rate..." Tony chuckled, low and rough. "It's pretty obvious I am nowhere near the kind of person you should be in love with, Steve. For one thing, I have a penis. That's still kind of a big deal to a lot of people. For another, I am probably robbing the star-spangled cradle here. And another thing; I will not, nor will I ever, have big breasts, doe eyes, or nice legs." Tony's voice was dry and hoarse, and Steve thought, briefly, if he had ever gotten to this point at a party. How many people before him had written off all this as nothing more than sarcasm and dry wit?

"I'm not anything you need, Steve. If I was even just one little thing--one special thing that you _really_ needed--maybe I wouldn't feel like I'm fucking _stealing you_ from someone who deserves you more, but I'm _not_ , so I do. I'm nothing _anyone_ could _ever_ need or want except a cheap fuck, least of all the man who deserves someone perfect and beautiful--the bravest man in the world, with eyes that shine like stars..." Tony mused, daring just once to look at Steve, just to catch a glimpse of those eyes, let them shine one last time for him, even if he didn't deserve it.

Tony sniffled and shook his head, murmuring, finally, the last bit of his self loathing laid bare so the wound could bleed freely, uninhibited by infections of sorrows, "I am nothing worth keeping, let alone loving. So no. I'm not ready. Because even if I was, I don't deserve to be."

They sat in silence for so long that Steve stopped counting the minutes.

Steve didn't know what to do. For once, the soldier within him, the Avenger, the brave man was useless. This was not a battlefied. Not one Captain America could fight.

No. No, it wasn't--but Steve Rogers _could_. Because it was Steve Rogers who was determined to hold Tony close and keep him safe from all harm, including the harm he wrought upon himself. Steve Rogers would protect and defend. This was a battlefield no soldier would dare cross--but a good man, just a good man out to help his lover...a good man could fight this fight.

And so Steve Rogers took Tony into his arms and held him close and tight.

"Do you know why I'm still here, Tony?" Steve finally said, shattering the silence with a simple question. Tony shook his head. Steve took his hand and held it tight.

"There are plenty of reasons why I believe you, Tony Stark, the brilliant, clever, strong, brave, wonderful and splendid man with a spine of iron and a heart of gold, are the one person I could spend my entire life with, to have and to hold for as long as we both live." Steve kissed the top of his head and smiled. 

"Let me give you the basics." He murmured.

Tony stared up at him. Steve just continued on.

"For starters, you are not a terrible person, not in the least. You are brave enough to not only fight for what's right, but admit when you've done wrong and seek to atone rather than simply regret." Steve rubbed his thumb gently over the arc reactor, the glow catching on his fingers and lighting them up brightly, as if to encourage him. Steve smiled down at the little device before kissing Tony's forehead.

"You're the most brilliant man I've ever known, and listening to you talk, even when it all confuses me, makes me feel...happy. Like things are just wonderful." Steve kissed the top of his head, rubbing his back and sighing. 

"I know that you might have a drinking problem, but I swore the second I confronted it that I wouldn't let it continue. I promise, I won't stand by and let you hurt yourself with booze anymore, Tony." Steve promised, before he hugged him tight, as if to seal the promise with a strong embrace, to keep it locked within Tony. 

Tony had begun to quiver in his arms, like a freshly plucked violin string, trembling with anticipation of another kiss, another embrace, anything. Steve's affection made him breathless and dizzy, and his words were like absolution, breaking down the wall and leaving him naked and trembling, but for the first time in forever, warm in the sun.

"You love your friends so fiercely and do your best to be good to them that anything you do that hurts them is balanced out; besides, you and I both know you never meant to hurt them, and so do they." Steve reminded him. Tony thought of Rhodey and Pepper and their easy acceptance and willingness to take care of him and could only nod. Steve smiled.

"It's all right, Tony. You are hurting, yes, and you have problems...but that's why I'm _here,_ Tony!" Steve exclaimed, wrapping an arm around Tony's waist. "I'm here to _take care_ of you when you _need_ to be taken care of, so being in need of care isn't a bad thing! It's all right, Tony! You're going to be just fine, and you won't be on your own anymore!" Steve promised, his eyes shining with the force of his vow as he gripped Tony tight and snuggled him closer, so close the arc reactor was hot against his skin.

"Tony, there are so many reasons why I'm here, and the first and the best is that I love you more than life itself, and if you think I'm going to walk away when a problem arises, think again." Steve murmured, his voice firm despite the soft tones he used to soothe his lover. "I don't run away. I can keep fighting forever, if I need to. And your battle is one that needs to be won."

Tony shook his head, but Steve quieted his oncoming protests with a soft kiss. He pulled away and put a finger on Tony's lips, speaking against the soft skin of his cheek, brushing close to his ear, every word thrumming through Tony's face and making his lips quiver.

"The next reason is that, pure and simple, I want to help you. I _want_ to help you because it's what you _need_ , Tony. And once you don't need help, and you can enjoy pure and simple happiness, then I want to enjoy that happiness with you, as a devoted partner. Okay?" Steve murmured. 

Tony didn't respond. Steve understood, though. So he just stroked Tony's hair and squeezed his hand tight.

"I promise, Tony, I just want to be with you. And I do think you're ready for that. You're just scared. This is something new to you, and a dream come true...I get that. I know this feels like a dream still, a miracle or something--to be honest, I feel the same way. Like this is a dream, and I still haven't woken up..." He kissed Tony's forehead. "You're no dream, though. Nothing my dreams could give me would be as wonderfully, frustratingly, amazingly perfect as you."

Tony looked up at him, his eyes wide and a thousand emotions trembling within them, begging to be let go and be allowed to burst forth. Steve smiled. 

"So...I'll stay. If that's what you want. Because I know it's what I want...and, truth be told, it's what I think you need." He finished.

Tony was quiet for a second. Then he shook his head and looked up at Steve. 

"You can't just go around sacrificing yourself for what other people need all the time, Steve!" He snapped, his voice sharp and high with fear and panic at the reality that he might not be able to shove the other man away this time. "You know what, the world doesn't work that way! Not even if you're Captain America! You can't put _my_ needs before _yours,_ okay?" Tony told him. "So just...just..."

Steve interrupted him before Tony could say the fatal words he would've regretted for the rest of his life. 

"But I _need_ to see you happy," Steve whispered, holding him close, "so it works out."

Tony fell silent.

He had no more defenses. The wall was crumbling now, free to be battered down with as much love as Steve could muster.

"Forever." Steve promised. "I'll love you forever, and I'll keep you safe for double that."

"I'll love you back..." Tony promised, his voice hoarse and thick with unshed tears, "and I promise I'll try to get fixed as fast as I can, so we can be happy together and I won't hurt you anymore..."

"Oh, Tony," Steve murmured. His voice was warm as he cradled Tony in his arms and kissed his cheek. "You don't hurt me. You make my life worth living. And the idea of you being happy is enough to keep me going, even if things do hurt. I promise, Tony. I'll always be here for you."

"Okay," Tony whispered, "okay. I trust you. Promise."

Those three simple words made Steve's heart soar and his throat work convulsively. His hands were trembing as he stroked Tony's hair, burying his face into Tony's neck for a second to collect himself before he met Tony's eyes and smiled for him.

"I know you do," Steve replied, "it's why you told me everything. Thank you, Tony." He kissed his forehead. "You helped me realize how much work we have to do..."

He took Tony's hand and squeezed it before adding, "but also you showed me just how worth it that it really is tonight. Thank you, Tony. I love you. I...I love you so much..."

Before Steve could really figure out how or why, Tony had pulled him down into his arms and into a strong embrace, kissing him like he could do nothing else, passion driving them both as Steve trembled and moaned, entirely unused to either passion or proper kissing.

Fortunately, Tony was a _very_ good teacher. And he figured if Steve was going to teach _him_ how to love _himself_...

Well, he could teach _Steve_ how to love him properly in the bargain, too.

Tony grinned into the kiss. Steve just laughed lightly and held him close, still kissing him as he held Tony up and carried him off to bed, settling Tony in as they kissed for long enough that Steve began to forget the ebb and flow of time again. 

Eventually, he pulled away, and Tony looked up at him. Steve's face was red, and his shyness and hesitation were clear in his eyes. Tony just rolled his eyes and grinned. It was nice to date someone so innocent and naive, he figured. Especially when they looked like befuddled golden retrievers when confused.

"Hey, uh, newsflash, Cap," Tony finally told him, "it's okay for people to sleep in the same bed now, even if they're not married."

"Really?" Steve grinned. Tony liked that grin and what it said he could get Steve to do. "Good. Move over."

And just like that, they were back in bed, and Tony was being held tightly and with absolute love, but in the chastest, sweetest embrace he had ever received, and he decided then and there that this was the one place he wanted to be more than anywhere else in the world--even over being inside the suit.

Steve understood. And so Steve held him tight, his hand over the reactor as he cradled Tony against his larger, stronger body, and kept him safe from the pain that threatened to overtake him, one caring gesture and heartfelt confession at a time.


	53. Edge of December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A revelation is had. The storm is brewing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this has minor spoilers for A Man and His Toy Soldiers, but they've all been alluded to before, and I try to keep the language unclear enough that you can still read that and be shocked when this plot point comes up because I haven't updated AMaHTS to the point where it does. Fucking prequels how do they work.  
> P.S. initially Loki was gonna be in this chapter but I wanted more drama and so here, have all the feels.  
> Also, to everyone...thank you so much for being concerned. I promise I'm fine, it was just a very nasty bout of existential crisis about my future job prospects. Worrying about my future sucks. Thank you for caring. It helped a lot!

Thor was quiet as he laid on the couch, his eyes half-closed as he looked out over the stars. There were so few of them compared to the stars of Asgard...or even the stars of New Mexico. Jane had taught him about those...but she was gone, off doing something else for S.H.I.E.L.D., and so Thor was the only one left to look up at them.

He watched the velvet skies and thought only of his brother.

Part of him felt guilty for that; he had begun to court Jane, surely, and perhaps he should be thinking of her and how much he ought to miss her...but she was not in pain. That much he knew. She was safe, with Darcy beside her somewhere in a remote, peaceful location, away from the drama and chaotic mess that had become his life on Midgard.

But Loki was not safe. 

Thor did not know how much of what Loki had said was true. Frankly, he did not want to know. To accept that his comrades, the people he had trusted, had hurt his brother...was too deep a task for him at this moment. He cared for these people. He did not want to believe they had betrayed him. Not yet.

So Thor sighed and stared up at the stars, his mind whirring with a plan.

He would have to talk to the Son of Coul. He knew all there was to know about the machinations of S.H.I.E.L.D. and its capricious ways. He would weigh his words carefully. Then he would think about what his brother had told him and decide if such a thing like Loki described was possible--as a wise king would.

And if it was? If Loki could be telling the truth, then?

Thor sighed. He did not know what he could do after that. Loki had said he would be able to find him a safe place. If at that point he trusted his brother enough to not believe that he was lying, certainly he could trust him to lead them to a safe place. For he would not go alone--either his shieldbrothers and comrades went, or he would not go at all. Loki would understand that, surely.

Thor nodded to himself. Yes, surely that was a solid beginning to this plan. He would weigh his options, consider the judgement of those he respected, and then, if he went back for his brother, they would find a way to make things safe--not just for his fair Loki, but for the whole team.

Things would be all right.

Thor smiled, delighted, and tilted his head up to look at the stars for awhile longer before he fell asleep upon the couch. They twinkled back at him, their light a comfort and a guide as he relaxed in self-satisfaction.

...

The next morning, no one really wanted to wake up, but it seemed that they had no choice. Pepper watched with one bleary eye open as Thor somehow rolled off the couch and made his way into the kitchen.

"We should probably stop him before he eats all of Clint's pop-tarts." Bruce remarked, his voice slurred and soft with sleep. Pepper nodded.

"So who's going to move first?" She asked.

The two of them laid there in silence.

Without a word, Bruce's arm wound around her stomach, squeezing her a little closer.

"I would much rather lie here with you than deal with Thor." Bruce said gravely. Pepper couldn't help but laugh. 

"That doesn't put me very high on the list of much," she teased, her voice light and warm, "I'm pretty sure I'd rather deal with Tony at a party than Thor when he's after pop-tarts."

"Well," Bruce began, and she could practically feel his blush against her skin, warm and comforting, and it made her grin, even if he couldn't see it, "I mean, I would rather be here with you than in, say, a lab somewhere. Or at the beach. Or riding a dinosaur."

"See, now _there's_ a compliment." Pepper teased, snuggling closer to him to show she approved. His blush only became warmer against her skin. "I've always wanted to win something against a T-Rex."

"Your arms can probably pick up more things." Bruce told her. "Does that count?"

Pepper laughed, and the sound rang throughout his entire body, making his hands shake as she rolled over to look at him. Her eyes were shining as she kissed his forehead.

"A little," she told him, "but we really should just get up anyway. I'd like a cup of coffee before we do anything...or, god forbid, that Fury calls..."

"He's probably busy doing something evil," Bruce remarked, unaware of how true that was, "so I'd say we have time."

Still, he got up with her and headed into the kitchen anyway, preventing total pop-tart carnage and making everyone some coffee while he contented himself with a cup of tea.

...

Coulson awoke to the feeling of Natasha vaccuum-sealed to his chest and Clint practically glued to his back. He sighed, trying not to smile. They always fussed when he was sick. 

"I'm much better, darlings," he murmured by way of a wake-up call, "the migraine's gone..."

Clint was the first to stir, sitting up in bed and stroking Coulson's hair, gentle and tender as his fingers skimmed over his forehead. 

"Good." He murmured, his voice thick with sleep. Coulson just smiled, his hands gentle as he shook Natasha awake, careful not to jostle her harshly. 

She stirred and opened her eyes, blinking back at him. He kissed her forehead.

"You are well," she said warmly, her voice threading through him like sunlight as she whispered, "good."

"Uhuh." He murmured, because she always left him tongue-tied when she was like this, and she probably always would. 

The three of them got out of bed and got dressed, completely in sync with each other--knowing just when to reach out or take someone's hand or guide them down the steps, completely aware of each others' presence, as they always were.

Coulson could already smell coffee, and he sighed, relieved.

"Looks like they got up before us..." He murmured. "Pepper? Bruce? Thor?"

"Dining room!" Pepper called. "We made coffee!"

"I noticed!" Coulson called back, heading through the hallway and into the kitchen, taking out three mugs and setting them down as Clint went to the cabinet and began to shriek, confronted with the loss of his pop-tarts.

"We did what we could." Bruce's voice rung out from the dining room, clearly trying not to sound amused and failing. Coulson just groaned and shook his head, letting Natasha make the coffee while he toasted Clint the last of his chocolate pop-tarts.

...

Eventually, all of them made their way to the table with both coffee and breakfast, sipping idly as they took the moment to relax.

Thor was the only one who didn't seem relaxed, however; he looked as if he had something on his mind. Coulson, ever observant, put his coffee down and looked at him.

"Thor," he said carefully, "is something wrong?"

Thor started for a second, as if he had been in another place entirely, his mind gone. Coulson just watched him, curious, as he sighed and set down his coffee. The god looked so terribly pained, and to see the normally jovial, boisterous Thor wound down was more disconcerting than Coulson had thought.

"Son of Coul, I have a question I believe you might be able to answer," he said, his voice rough and low with an emotion Coulson couldn't quite place, "but I ask in advance that you be completely truthful...even if you do not believe I shall like the answer."

"...All right, Thor." Coulson agreed, suddenly aware that the emotions in the room had changed. The tension threatened to choke him. "You know I'll always be honest with you. You're part of my team."

Thor bowed his head and nodded before he looked up and spoke.

"I went to speak to my brother." He said. "When I did so, he told me S.H.I.E.L.D. had hurt him. They had experimented on him, to see how he worked." Thor blinked, clearly trying to stave off a few tears. "Would...would such a thing truly happen in your halls? Would they truly hurt my brother? Did they, Son of Coul? Do you know?"

Coulson didn't say anything. He couldn't.

He was somewhere else.

_It had been midnight, sometime in December, on the cusp of winter. He had seen them last in summer._

_Had he, though? Hadn't they always been with him?_

_No. No, they hadn't been bleeding like this. They had been safe. He had kept them safe._

_...So who were they now? What was real?_

Coulson's throat worked reflexively, and he looked as if he was about to be ill. Memories poured out openly, churning in his mind like roaring waves.

_She was bleeding._

_It was then he knew that the death in front of him was very, very real._

_The hallucinations gave him one last kiss before they left. Suddenly he was alone with two dying people on the edge of midnight, their eyes wet with pain and fear as broken, bruised hands reached out to touch him._

_The clock chimed midnight in the slow, sad tones of a saxophone, and Coulson began to scream._

Coulson shoved his chair away from the table and went to the bathroom, where he was quietly and thoroughly sick for a few minutes.

He couldn't hear Clint and Natasha banging on the door waiting to fuss. That meant they knew exactly what this was about.

He began to hum quietly, desperately, washing his mouth out and keeping himself steady as he tried not to think about what had happened the last time S.H.I.E.L.D. had decided it could just toy with the lives of the people he loved.

He made his way out of the bathroom quietly. No one had left the table. 

He sat down like nothing had happened. The only sign anything had changed since Thor's question was the quick look he gave Clint and Natasha, as if to check for blood or injuries.

"...A while ago," Coulson began, in a voice softer than he had imagined for something so painful and raw within him, "something...something happened with Clint and Natasha. They were taken from me by Fury to be used on a mission. I did not know where they were. They were gone for six months."

He did not talk of what had transpired during those six months. That was something he could not even think of, let alone discuss.

He gripped the table, his hands shaking.

"After all was said and done, as it happened, I was made privy to the fact that it was all another way to test our bond. To see if we had grown close enough that we could be manipulated by our feelings for one another." Coulson closed his eyes. It didn't stop the tears, though. "Clint and Natasha were put in danger because of an _experiment._ Because Fury had something to _prove._ "

He looked at Thor, and he knew he must look pitiful to the god now; weeping openly, the wounds he had tried to file away someplace dark and hidden brought into the light, festering and agonizing, his pain clear. 

It was only once he met Thor's eyes that he knew the god's pain matched his own.

"So _yes,_ Thor," he said, that knowledge spurring him on to continue, "yes, they most likely experimented on your brother. They hurt him because they had no reason _not to,_ and that is how S.H.I.E.L.D. operates. They hurt you when they've got a reason, no matter how ridiculous it is, and they hurt you if they've got no good reason _not_ to do so."

Thor was shaking. So was Coulson.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Thor stood up suddenly and left the dining room, storming outside. Coulson got up and followed him without hesitation; the others followed after Coulson, trying not to panic. Clint and Natasha looked utterly shaken.

Thor had summoned Mjolnir and was standing outside, his eyes wild and filled with tears as he swore in some language Coulson could not understand that sounded like crashing icebergs.

He gave one last anguished cry before he swung Mjolnir, bringing the lightning with him, the thunder roaring in his wake as Thor disappeared.

Instantly, everything was still.

They all remained outside, looking at each other, unsure of what to say.

"...We have to go," Pepper finally said. "He's going to need us. Sooner than he thinks."

"Should we get Steve and Tony?" Bruce asked, seeing the other three were still too lost in whatever plagued them to help. Pepper shook her head. 

"No time, we'll bring him back to our house after--c'mon, in the car, we have to go!" She said, pushing them insistently towards the car. Bruce followed her without hesitation, getting in without another word...but there were still three people standing behind her.

Pepper looked back at Phil, Clint, and Natasha, standing in the driveway, staring blankly at something only the three of them could see. She didn't know what to do or say to Clint or Natasha, but she knew Phil. His duty came first, and his commitment to the team meant everything to him. He would be there for them. Even if he wasn't all there in the head at the moment.

Pepper grabbed Coulson's arm and looked at him. His eyes refocused long enough to see her, but only for a moment. Pepper squeezed his arm a little tighter and bit her lip before she pulled him closer.

"Phil, I know whatever happened had to be hard on all three of you, but the rest of the team needs you." She begged. "Please. I've only been doing this for three days. _Help._ "

Coulson stared at her blankly for a second longer. Pepper almost let go of his arm.

Then he sighed and hugged her tight.

"Of course, Pepper..." he promised, his voice soft, "you're a member of this team, too. I'm here to take care of you."

He took Clint and Natasha and guided them into the car, gentle and careful. Bruce got shotgun as Pepper started up the car. 

Neither Bruce nor Pepper said anything about the soft sobs they heard coming from Clint and Natasha in the back, or the gentle, soothing murmurs of comfort they could hear coming from Coulson. It was the closest thing they could give the trio to peace.


	54. Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki meet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm not sorry I just hold you down and grind your heart into the floor.  
> Anyways, some clarification; Dreaming is basically sleep-scrying and requires no external use of magic; it's manipulated solely by internal magics and isn't affected by anything around the user. It's all in the mind, so anti-magic barriers can't get to it; they're designed to prevent, like, magic blasts or magic fire or whatever.  
> Also; sorry about the late update! Busy night last night. Hope this is up to snuff and makes up for the delay! Though I will admit it's short...the next chapter is very long, if that makes up for it.  
> So...not much to say about this chapter because anything would spoil. I hope you like it...and don't hate me too much for this.

Thor snarled in agony, his eyes half-mad with sorrow and regret as he made his way towards base, thunder and lightning in his wake. 

He had _failed him_. He had failed his fair Loki and left him for dead, on the honor of the most deceitful man upon Midgard. He had been a fool. He could handle that, foolish mistakes were nothing new to him--but no, not this time. Not when Loki's life hung in the balance.

Thor shook his head. No. To condemn himself for his mistakes was fair and just, and what he deserved, but not now. Not yet. He had other things he had to accomplish. He had to go to Loki. He had to open his arms and let his brother in, to embrace him and hold him as he had done when they were children and yearned to do as men. 

Perhaps Loki, instead, could condemn him; his fair brother had such a sharp tongue and biting wit, and the wounds would bleed profusely on his heart, but he would cut so deep that Thor would be free of any guilt or regret, and that was a fair price for a tongue-lashing. Plus, only Loki, his fair sweet Silvertongue Loki, could comfort him in such a manner that any wounds his tongue inflicted were licked clean and smoothed over. 

Yes, then; that would be fair and wise and just, exactly the thing Loki deserved. His brother could scold him, as he had done many times before, and it would be like home, his brother's voice, even in anger or sorrow, transporting him back to a golden city and a warm, safe place for them both. Thor had to give that to Loki. Loki was owed that home as much as he.

He would go save him, then. He would go get him, hold him close, kiss his forehead, soothe his aches and listen to his woes. He would take his fair Loki away somewhere safe, where no one could find him, and give his brother the love and peace he so desperately desired.

The lightning crackled in response, as if it approved of his plan. The thunder rumbled encouragement. Thor simply smiled.

Yes, he would take his fair Loki away, far away, and he would apologize, and Loki would shout and scold and snap, but he would forgive him, he always did...Loki would forgive him anything, and Thor would try to forgive himself for his actions as well. 

But forgiveness mattered not right now; what did matter was saving Loki, taking him away from the hounds of S.H.I.E.L.D., and tucking him someplace safe. Once his fair Loki was safe, far away from the beasts, Thor would deal with the man who thought he could harm his brother. He would show him what it meant to anger a god.

Thor alighted down on the ground, the earth beneath him rumbling low and rough in harmony with his fury. His hair blazed in the dawn like the rise of a fiery new sun and trailed behind him like a lion's mane, and he roared as he raised his hammer, as if to complete the image.

He screamed Loki's name so loudly that two ravens were startled from the trees, just beyond his vision. The foundations of the base trembled. 

Thor cared not. He was here to smash them down anyway, send it all crumbling down, if that was what it took to have his Loki back in his arms again.

He broke through the steel doors and stormed in, thunder snarling and lightning keening with power in his wake, his cape fluttering behind him like a flag of glory as he went to go claim his brother.

...

Fury sighed and shook his head, tsking quietly as he turned off the recording device and listened to the sounds of the storm brewing upstairs. So much for not having to pay the trickster a visit today.

He went down the hall and down into the depths of the laboratory, making his way to the room where they were keeping Loki still. He had not spoken since Thor had talked to him. Frost had begun to grow on the walls of his cage and over his mouth, keeping him still. He had not bothered to keep up the illusion of humanity; he bared for all to see his sapphire skin, showed them all plain as day what a monster he was. 

_And he wondered why Thor left him there to rot._ Fury thought, backing away from the cage just slightly. 

Fury gave him a look of pure, undisguised loathing, before tsking quietly and turning back to the lab controls.

"Annette," he called for the head technician, "I need you to move Loki down into the magic-proof quarters for a time. We've been keeping him here and inviting risk for far too long."

Annette looked confused, but she had learned to stop questioning S.H.I.E.L.D. a long time ago.

"Sir," she agreed, saluting him before keying in a few commands to the computer, which would allow her to move him into the magic-proof solitary rooms Fury had built ages ago in the event of just such an occurrence as this one. 

Then he heard the rough, grating cry over the security feeds that were situated all over the computer screens and raised an eyebrow, a small smirk growing across his face.

His plan could wait. Loki was trouble, of course, but not even taking away his magic would cripple him completely. This, however...this might. And by his brother's own hand, no less.

"Wait a minute, Annette," he said, holding up a hand, "I think Loki ought to see this first."

Thor's voice reached the god's ears.

Finally, after so long, Loki began to stir.

...

Thor's body seemed to move almost entirely of someone else's accord at this point. He ran through the maze that was S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, his eyes wild and brimming over with tears.

As he ran, he cursed himself violently for his own brutal idiocy, all his crimes so clear now that he was so close to atoning for them, and yet damning himself to a thousand tortures for what he had done and who he had harmed. There was too much pain to contemplate at this point, too many things he had yet to avenge for him to forgive himself.

_"Loki!_ " He roared. He did not know what else to say. He could not bear to think that his brother could not hear him. The others had told him these walls could relay all secrets. He could only hope his cries got through.

"Brother!" He cried, each step he took now harsh against the steel stairs. His feet left imprints in them. "Brother, _please!_ Forgive me! I--I did not--" Thor shook his head furiously.

"I did not know, brother, but what you said is true!" He cried out. "Brother, _please_! I am _sorry!_ I did not _know,_ brother, and I _never_ meant to harm you!"

From two stories down in the depths of S.H.I.E.L.D., Loki watched the scene unfold in front of him, his hands shaking and his eyes wet. The frost had fallen away from the cage walls, and finally, as his lips parted to form his brother's name upon them, from his mouth as well.

He had Dreamed of this. Exactly this. His mighty savior was smashing through all the walls that had trapped him and caused him such pain...Thor had come for him. He had Dreamed it. And so it was to be.

"Loki, it will be all right," Thor promised, his voice warm and comforting, a balm on Loki's agonized soul, "you are going to be all right, brother. I am coming to get you. We will find someplace safe, you and I, and we shall talk. You will be all right, brother. I will be with you. All will be well. Wait for me. I am coming."

Loki nodded, despite knowing full well that Thor could not see him. 

His eyes were blurred with tears as he whispered, so soft not even the others heard it, "I always was, Thor. And I will continue to wait as long as I must."

He could not see particularly well at that point, so it was a shock to him to find his cage being taken down, carried away into the depths of the darkness. Loki shook away the tears to watch as an odd machine grabbed him and began to pull him down into the depths of the labs. He could feel the lack of magic already--an aggressive sort of anti-magic, as if even the harmless natural magics had existed within it had been forcibly ripped away.

"You are going to be all right, Loki," Thor promised, but Loki knew it wasn't true, because it was the last thing he heard before he was taken away someplace Thor could not follow.

Loki began to scream. No singing, no more--now was not the time. He had to scream. He had to fight. 

He began to beat his hands bloody against the walls of his cage, his throat raw and rough as he screamed, "THOR! _BROTHER! BROTHER, PLEASE_!"

Thor did not heard him. Fury just watched him, eye dully glinting as Loki was taken away. He did not say a word.

Loki was throwing his whole body against the glass at this point, the desperation obvious in the way that he struggled, but there was no real use to it. His aching body seemed to taunt him with its uselessness as Loki sagged to the floor of his cage, whimpering with agony as his fingers groped against the walls and his mouth called out for his brother, as he had done so often before as a child and in pain.

He was no better than that pained child then and there.

All hope lost to him, Loki closed his eyes and began to Dream again. 

It would have to work this time, even without the physical magics. It would have to.

He had to call out now. Not just to his brother--to the others. He would be patient. And he would Dream. For what he had saw before would come to pass, but perhaps...perhaps not yet. Not in this way.

For now, though, he was content to simply despair.

His brother was lost to him. His magics were lost to him. And it was so very _dark_ in here.

Loki curled up on the floor of his cage and close his eyes, letting sleep take him away someplace quieter and warmer than where he had found himself. A place where he could Dream of lightning and find that it had struck him.

...

_"LOKI!_ " Thor roared, his voice triumphant and full of rejoicing as the door to the S.H.I.E.L.D. labs was torn off its hinges and tossed aside. "LOKI, _I AM HERE!_ "

Silence. Emptiness and nothing more greeted him.

He looked around the room, his eyes wide. This was the room! He was sure of it! They had kept him here! They--

"We've moved him."

Fury's voice cut through him and struck him dead where he stood. He stood in front of him, his voice flat and his eyes almost benign, as if he had just not gravely wounded Thor's heart and left him for dead, his other half lost to him.

".. _.What_?" Thor said, his voice rough with agony and regret. Fury sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder. It took all of the little scraps of self restraint and sanity Thor had left not to rip it off.

"You see, Thor, after some intensive evaulation, we have decided that your brother is far too dangerous to be kept even in our more...powerful...containers. He's been placed someplace top-secret." Fury explained. "When he's fit to be released into other types of less.. _.excruciating_ confinement, I will let you know. Until then, he needs to stay where he is-- _alone_." Fury looked up at him. "Do you understand?"

Thor did.

He understood, then, the beast that S.H.I.E.L.D. truly was. He understood why the Son of Coul had wept. He understood the true reason his brother, his wise, fair Loki, had been taken from him. He understood why Fury sought to hurt his shieldbrothers.

All of the understanding filled him with rage.

But he did not fight.

"I do." He said quietly, in the grave tone tinged with regret, sorrow, and overwhelming rage and despair that only a cornered king could ever manage.

He took his hammer--the hammer that had brought kingdoms to their knees and built yet other kingdoms from the ground up--and walked away.

Fury just smiled.

...

Coulson met Thor in the hallway with the rest of the team in tow in time to be the first to grab him and hug him tight. It was a hard, awkward hug to manage, but it comforted Thor, and Coulson was grateful for that, at least.

Thor was weeping. It was strange to see him cry, but Coulson knew just what had happened. He didn't blame him. 

"It's going to be okay," he promised, even though he had the sinking feeling he was lying, "things are going to be all right. I'll get him out. You'll see. It might take some time, but I'll save him, too. You're going to be okay, Thor, and so is he. Ssh...ssh..."

Thor sobbed on his shoulder for a minute longer, utterly and completely broken. Coulson wasn't surprised. To learn what S.H.I.E.L.D. could be, for a man of honorable, open combat such as Thor, was going to be a complete and utter shock--and a painful one, at that.

"Ssh, Thor," Coulson soothed him, "we're all going back to Tony's, okay? We're going to go back to Tony's. Loki will be just fine. We'll be able to bring him back there someday, too. Come on, Thor. Let's go home. Let's get you home."

"My fault," Thor bawled, finally speaking, " _all my fault_ , I did not--I did not _mean_ \--my _brother_ , Son of Coul, my fair Loki, I was to _protect him_ , and I--I f-failed--"

"You didn't fail." Coulson said sternly. "It will just take more to protect him and longer to save him than you thought. Hush, Thor. We have to go home now. Come on, Thor. Come with us..."

Thor pulled away, wiping his eyes hurriedly and straightening up. He nodded, his jaw set and his eyes bright. 

"You are correct." He agreed, his voice quiet and resigned. Coulson squeezed his hand and beckoned to him, his eyes soft and sad with understanding. Thor sighed heavily and followed after him.

He had not let go of the hammer. It was the last thing to remind him of home that he had. 

It was the last thing that reminded him of his brother...


	55. Recollections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks to Tony's life before Steve. The truth is, though, is that Tony's life never wanted much for Steve within it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is entirely flashback, woops. Well more like flashback-due-to-dream-sequence. A bit of both. At any rate...a few things need to be clarified.  
> Howard Stark is insane and out to get his son married to an iceberg. Understanding that will make this all make a little more sense. Yes, Tony loves Steve, and desperately so, but Howard, ever the captain of Not Helping, encouraged it in the most emotionally unhealthy way possible. Also in the creepiest way possible.  
> So, S.H.I.E.L.D. knew all about Howard visiting him and Tony, too. They let them until they knew they had the tech to come fix him up...  
> Also; so this diverges from canon a bit. I liked the idea that they FOUND Steve easily enough, because really, wouldn't the army WANT to hunt down its best soldier and try to rescue him if at all possible, and also I'm sure Howard had some kind of primitive GPS/radar thing that tracked Steve's plane. So that meant that they discovered his downed plane and body easily enough...but lacked the tech to extricate him without major brain or body damage. That meant that all the Commandos, Peggy, and Howard could all come visit him...it was just getting him out alive that was out of the question.  
> Honestly I like this headcanon better because there's more dickpunching to the heart involved in it.  
> Also because it means Phil probably went as SOON as S.H.I.E.L.D. said he could and watched him sleep in the ice, too, because Phil Coulson for best Cap creeper. Second only to Tony, obvs.  
> Seriously, Tony is so damn unhealthy oh my god you are fourteen baby Howard should not be trying to get you hitched. He totally was though. It's just...now at this point in time, Tony probably believes he wouldn't DESERVE to be married to Steve.  
> P.S. you're welcome I hate me too it's okay.  
> Hope you like this chapter!

"Now listen up, Tony," Howard began, sitting on the couch with a bottle of gin in his hand, "do you remember the time I told you about when the Captain fought the Red Skull at Dachau?"

Tony, sitting on the floor with blueprints scattered about him, wrapped in a blanket, looked up and sighed. He was eight at the time, his dark hair tousled and his thumb in his mouth. It was a bad habit, he knew, but his dad couldn't really get on him for bad habits.

"'Course I do, Howard," he remarked, his voice dry, "you've told me twenty times. You, Bucky, and aunt Peggy went with him to Dachau and while you, Bucky, and aunt Peggy got everyone out, the Captain dragged the Red Skull out from where he'd been hiding with his H.Y.D.R.A. agents and beat him unconscious in front of all the concentration camp survivors." Tony yawned. "He escaped, though, 'cause one of the H.Y.D.R.A. agents threatened to shoot the survivors. So you brought them all back to base and got them medical care."

"Good," Howard slurred, his eyes half-lidded as he gestured at Tony with the bottle of gin, "glad there's something rattling around in that empty head of yours, kiddo."

Tony gripped his grease pencil so hard his knuckles went white. Howard sighed, taking a slug of gin from the bottle and pointing to the wall of pictures that hung on his mantle. 

"He's beautiful, isn't he?" Howard said. His voice was the kind of gentle Tony only ever heard in it whenever he talked about Steve. Tony sighed. Howard continued on as if he hadn't heard him.

"He was so small and fragile when I first met him, Tony. But he _shone_. He was a good man, that much was clear. He was a hero. He was _beautiful._.." Howard swallowed another sip of gin and grinned. "God, and once the serum took effect...he was like Adonis. The second I saw him...I knew exactly how perfect he was going to be. And he proved me right. Both inside and out..."

"I know, Howard." Tony rolled his eyes and made a few adjustments to the robot with his pencil. He hated talking about Steve when Howard was drunk. It felt wrong. Steve wouldn't have wanted to see Howard drunk; Tony knew that.

"He loved Peggy, though," Howard sniffled roughly, "he loved her a whole lot, in that apple-pie American way. I knew it. I...I couldn't have done anything. At least he was happy, I told myself. He never would've been able to love me, even if he did. So I let her...have him. Because I couldn't." 

Howard got up and knelt beside Tony. Tony wanted so badly to scrabble away. The alcohol on Howard's breath reeked. He knew he had no choice but to listen, though, and so he stayed where he was, wrapped in his blanket as if it could provide him with the guise of safety.

"But you can, Tony," Howard whispered, his voice the rotten-sweet of alcohol, "you can. Times have changed. And you can love him. You _have_ to. Because _I_ couldn't..."

"What if _I_ don't want to, Howard?" Tony snapped. "What if _he_ doesn't love _me?_ I mean, you're assuming a lot, Howard. He might just not like guys. Or he might just not like _me_."

Howard snorted, ruffling Tony's hair. Tony tried not to flinch.

"Oh, you'll want to, brat," Howard said cheerfully. "Let me tell you something, Anthony. You know how you're an irascible little pain in the ass no one can stand to be around?"

Tony wrapped his blanket around himself tighter.

"Yes..." He murmured.

"Good!" Howard said brightly. "Well, you see, the Captain won't care. He's always been the kind of man that can put up with people like you, Tony. And he'll want someone to talk to. Someone he remembers. That's the real reason why I had you, remember? My greatest creation...all for Steve." Howard told him, a bit of pride in his voice near the end. Tony rolled his eyes.

"Howard, he won't remember _me_. He'll remember _you_. Why don't _you_ go there when he wakes up?" Tony snapped. 

Howard fell silent. Tony actually felt a little guilty at the utterly heartbroken look on his father's face. He got up and put a tiny hand on his father's shoulder.

"...Sorry, dad." He murmured.

Howard didn't say anything for awhile. Tony wrapped himself tighter in his blanket and imagined Steve was the one who had put the blanket around his shoulders and tucked him in on the couch beside the fireplace. 

"He can't _ever_ see me, Tony," Howard whispered, his voice more broken and agonized than Tony had ever heard it, "he can't see me like this. Not _ever._ You...you have to be there for him, Tony. Because I can't be. Not ever."

They sat there quietly for awhile. 

"...Do you want me to tell you about the time the Captain went with me on an air raid and took on the Germans?" Howard ventured. Tony sighed and laid his head on his father's shoulder.

"Okay, dad." Tony murmured.

...

The routine in the Stark house went as follows; Maria had Tony in the mornings, and they would flee the house to allow Howard time to wallow in his sorrows with his spirits. Tony loved mornings with his mother, but the afternoon would end up looming on them soon enough, and Howard would send a limo after them.

Tony always held his mother's hand the whole way home. He couldn't give her the comfort of a sober husband, but he could give her the promise of a loving son. He knew it made his mother at least a little happier. 

They would come home just in time for Howard to pass out before dinner. Maria would carry him up to bed and tuck him in. It was the only reason he ever called them home. 

Then Tony would take his mother down into his lab and show her whatever he had made. It wasn't the same as his father's pride, because he knew his mother would be impressed with whatever he made, regardless of its real quality, but the only thing that kept him from killing himself to save the world from his useless presence more often than not as he grew older was his mother's smile as she held his machines in her frail, shaking hands, even if it was a smile that said she didn't quite understand.

After that, Howard would rouse himself for another beer. That, for them, meant dinner. Howard would tell Tony more stories of Steve and his exploits, and Tony would contemplate how easy it would be to kill his father and slip his meat to the cooks for dinner. He contemplated that idea the more Howard drank. There was an algorithim to it somewhere. 

Then, once dinner had been cleared, Howard would have his after dinner vat of liquor and Tony would sit by the fire and work on his blueprints while his father continued to talk of Steve. 

Once Tony began to get a little older, Howard wouldn't just focus on the daring exploits of Steve Rogers. He started to talk about how beautiful Steve had been; the shape of his face and the way he smiled, the golden shine to his hair, bright as the dawn, and the sapphire sheen that graced his eyes; and, after he had imbibed himself with a few more tankards, the muscle on his arms, legs, and chest, and what hung between his legs. It was those times that Tony wished he was deaf. Or that his father was mute. 

But, though he would never admit it, he drank up those tales as much as he hungered for the more wholesome, heroic exploits of Steve Rogers. It gave his fantasies a face, a being--it made them more real. It made Tony believe that maybe someday, he really would see Steve, be held and loved and caressed by him.

Once Tony had turned ten, he began to _ask_ for stories; he would coax them out of his father to get everything he could and ask all the questions he could think of as Howard regaled him with tales and exploits. 

But soon, Howard's tales had become stale, at least to him. He could recite them by heart, and sure, they made his pulse race, but...they were all from his dad's point of view. And god, how he _hated_ that.

He needed the real thing. He needed to get right to the source; he would meet Steve Rogers for himself. He would simply have to be careful.

And so Tony snuck into his father's room and snatched up old newspapers, books, articles, reels of film, watching them by himself or looking them over in the dead of night with only Dummy for company.

After hours of perusing the archives, Tony decided that he liked it better when Howard wasn't telling him the stories. It made it so that he would not invariably see his father interwound with Steve. It made Tony see Steve for what he was, and not as his father had seen him. That was what pushed him into a full-blown obsession; discovering Steve for himself.

While he looked through those archives, as he began to grow a little older, honing his knowledge and his hunger for more that had been inevitably nursed by a father who saw that as his only purpose--those days were when Tony began to love him. Not just Captain America--he was falling in love with Steve Rogers. 

Tony longed for the moments where he was caught so candidly, usually in a personal film of Howard's, just drawing or talking or laughing with the Commandos, Bucky, or Peggy. Those were the best. Those made Steve real. So real Tony could imagine someday being with him forever, as a partner, a friend, and a lover.

He fell in love with the man who blushed at Bucky's dirty jokes, who offered his jacket to any of the others the second it fell cold, the man who kept watch first to ensure they were all safe before he fell asleep. He fell in love with the man who drew with careful precision and love for his subject, who giggled shyly, like he had never thought a man could do, whenever someone teased him for his work. He fell in love with the gentle artist that was Steve Rogers and wanted the proud, brave Captain America to save him and fight by his side.

But there was always that darkness lurking in the back of his mind that poisoned his love for Steve, made it impure.

Howard. Always _Howard_. Howard that had ruined everything. Howard that had only ever contributed to his conception so as to give Steve something he never could. Howard that drank and drank until he drowned his son in it, choking him. Howard Stark, who had alternately ruined Tony's life and given it its sole, true purpose.

Tony knew he had to see Steve for himself. Without Howard. Without the stories. Just him and the Captain. It was the only way.

So for his next birthday, he asked to go see Steve.

It wasn't that they didn't know where he was. They had found his downed plane after a little while; his coordinates were still registered, and the army had sent out its best trackers. 

But he had been frozen solid, and the truth was, for all that Howard was a mechanical genius, he couldn't fix him. There was no energy he could feasibly harness, no machine that he could create that wouldn't destroy Steve's body or mind beyond repair in the process. His father had the pipe dream of some ridiculous thing he had dubbed an arc reactor, but the energy output required far too large a container. So it remained a pipe dream.

(Until much later, of course, but this dream was not being dreamed in the present.) 

And so, when the others got their maudlin fits of masochism, they would come visit on occasion. The Commandos. Peggy. Everyone Steve had known during his escapades came to visit once or twice. Peggy left him a pair of dancing shoes. Howard hadn't asked why.

But they only went once or twice. They did not move on, per se, because to forget the Captain was to forget all that was good and proper about humanity, but they lived as he would have asked them to; they made families, jobs, livelihoods, and did their best to keep what he taught them in their hearts. 

And Peggy went dancing every year on his birthday, by herself in a dark room, and it was the only time that jazz music could ever make her smile.

Howard visited once a year.

Every year on his birthday, almost as a little gift to the hero he had once been, he got in a plane and flew himself away into the frost and the grieving, going to see Steve and drive the knife of never letting go deeper into his heart.

Tony didn't go. Partially because he had always suspected it was a commune between his father and the man he had loved with an all-consuming, ferocious entirety, moreso than he had ever loved his son...and partially because, frankly, he didn't want to. Just to spite his dad a little more.

Only now he had fallen in love with Steve all for himself. All he wanted to was to be with Steve, to be saved by Steve, to be _loved_ by the great and glorious Captain, who shone like the dawn in all Tony's dreams. He wanted everything Steve could give, even knowing what that meant--that part of his heart now lay underneath sheets of ice and the sands of time. 

Part of him was angered by having played right into his father's plans, serving his sole purpose in life at the behest of his father; to spread his legs for Steve as his father had been so desperate to do, to serve him and be his devoted helpmate, like Howard had wanted, and to be the man Howard had wanted to be, at least like how he found himself in regards to Steve.

But the part of him that was far more powerful and potent was consumed with a crippling, all-consuming desire for Steve Rogers. To have his touch and to feel his caress would be an impossibilty, given the givens. But Tony could _see him._ Tony could meet the man he was meant to be with face to face and decide if his fate really worked out for him. Because if it didn't...then Tony would work around it. After all, he _was_ Tony Stark. And it would really piss off his dad, to boot. 

Still. He had to see him face to face before he made any decisions. He would meet Steve as best as he could. Then he would judge for himself whether or not Steve was anything more than a tall tale his father had made his focus since before Tony was even born.

Tony adjusted his goggles and sighed as he fought his way through the ice and snow by himself. Howard had let him go on his own once they landed; he was staying behind. Once a year was enough, even for a masochist like his father. 

Tony rolled his eyes and trudged through the well-worn tracks in the snow. Even the constant blizzards seemed to allow this path to remain. Perhaps his dad had made some antifreeze tech. Regardless of why, he could navigate his way through the ice easily, and despite the howling wind pushing him back, Tony made it to the site in a matter of an hour.

Tony swallowed as he saw the block of ice loom ahead of him. His hands were shaking, though he would never admit it. His heart pounded in his throat as he made his way closer.

Steve was here. In this spot was the resting place of the greatest man who had ever lived, the man he had watched for years of his life, talking and drawing and fighting and being a brave, wonderful man. He knew this man like he knew himself, all through old photographs and film reels; they were tied up in each other despite having never been together. Tony knew him. Tony felt him. Tony wanted him.

As he came closer, he could almost hear his laughter and feel his smile, like the sun shining against his skin on a cool day. He heard the scratching of a pencil on rough paper, a picture drawn just for him; he could almost feel, as he stood there, so close to Steve, a hand on his shoulder that kept him grounded and safe.

The blizzard stilled entirely, as if out of respect, as Tony reached the block of ice that held Captain America, fast asleep and locked away from the world.

He appeared entirely peaceful, as if almost forty-five years had not passed. Even through the ice, he looked as young and vibrant as he did in the old film reels. In fact, Steve looked like any minute now, he would spring awake and take Tony into his arms and take him away from a cruel, horrid father that drank much more than he should and forward into a life of happiness and amazing adventures where no one died and so no one had to drink themselves to death in their memory.

Steve Rogers looked like the man Tony wanted more than anything to be with for the rest of his life. 

Tony did not despair at this, despite it being exactly what his father wanted. Indeed, it was as if all of Howard's influence on his love for Steve had been banished by the pure, heroic visage that was reflected through the ice and back at him. There was no bitterness to Tony's love for the Captain now. None at all. All the love within him burned with an all-consuming desire to be with Steve in all ways and for all time, and it hurt to stand with the weight of all of that dragging him down and lifting him up simultaneously. 

Tony sank to his knees, gripping the ice with his hands for support as he trembled. He couldn't help but smile at the thought that even while he was in the ice, Steve was still supporting him.

Tony managed to pull himself upright. Once he did, he knew he had to look again--to see Steve and make his decision. 

Tony looked at the warm, shining face of Captain America only to realize he had made this decision years ago.

Pulling his scarf up over his face, the young teen kissed Steve through the thick fabric and the even thicker ice. It wasn't much, but it was something. It was a promise.

After that, for a little while, Tony talked to him. He didn't have much time--Howard wanted to be back home in time for a birthday gala--but he introduced himself and told Steve a little more about his future husband. He hoped Steve would appreciate that. 

Even though Tony did confess some of the hardships of his life to his Steve, he still promised Steve that he would stay safe for that upcoming year. He owed it to Steve to keep himself safe and happy.

(As the years passed, he found himself more and more unable to keep that promise, but that was not in the moment--this moment was happiness, pure and simple.)

Tony left with Howard to go back home later that day with his eyes shining. Even though Howard got ragingly drunk at his birthday party and passed out in his cake, Tony paid it no heed. He danced with his mother, happy and at ease, knowing that he had met Steve and made the decision to love him all for himself. That mattered more to him than anything in the world.

Years went by. Tony went at least three times a year--once on Howard's birthday, unfortunately with his father, but by that point his love was too pure and true for it to matter, once on his own, and once on Steve's. He hoped Steve didn't mind that he didn't like going on the day Steve had gotten frozen. It hurt too much. 

However, after Howard died...Tony lost him. He lost Steve to the ice, to the sands of time--it didn't matter what; what mattered was that his Captain had been taken from him.

He didn't know who had taken the body--years later, he would find out it was S.H.I.E.L.D., of course--but he grieved as if he had lost a lover. Indeed, he had, though only his closest friends knew. 

He drank. He cried. He grieved. For a year, he was entirely bereft of hope or happiness.

Still, he resolved to be nothing like his father, and so he curbed the drinking, opened up to his friends a little, and for awhile, he was better. Then he just mellowed out and went back to normal, but even then, that was better than what anyone had believed him capable of.

The dream did not end with things going back to normal, however. It was not content with that.

Before Tony could wake up, warm and content with the promises his dream had made him remember fufilled, it presented him with one last scenario; Steve trapped in the ice again...

And Tony by his side...


	56. Waking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony wakes up beside Steve, peacefully asleep. It doesn't end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony though.  
> Ugh, seriously, these two are going to smother me with their fluff. They're so cute.  
> But yeah, back to Thor. In regards to Loki...he's not gone forever, I promise, but he's been removed from the action for a little bit. Thor's grief over his loss, though, gets worse and worse.  
> Phil, Clint, and Natasha's lives just kind of suck. The end.  
> Hope you like this chapter!

Tony awoke with a sudden, sharp snap, his eyes wild and panicked. He felt hot all over, and sick to his stomach besides. Something had gone wrong. But he could not remember what. Something...something...by his side...

Tony looked over in bed to see Steve asleep, his eyes closed and his breathing so soft as to be almost imperceptible. He was smiling, just a little. 

It all came back to Tony in a rush, and he choked down a sob of agony and panic as his dream threatened to overwhelm him. The image of Steve encased in ice was forever a brand upon his memory, and seeing Steve in that moment, his mind still hazy with the dream, Tony began to shake, his breath coming in short sobs.

Steve was a light sleeper, but Tony could be a quiet crier--unfortunately, he most often cried quietly when he was panicking, and Tony was definitely panicking now. All he could see was cold, pale skin--the skin of a man caught between life and death, someplace Tony couldn't follow.

But he had to be. He _had_ to be with Steve _, always._ He _needed him to be here_!

Tony grabbed him tight and held him in his arms, despite the height differences and weight differences between them. He had taken Steve into his arms as best as he could, running his hands over Steve's skin, trying to find warmth in skin he had thought would remain cold and closed off to him forever.

Steve was quiet. Tony was not okay with that. He was quiet as snow. As ice. 

"Steve!" Tony pleaded, hugging him tighter, feeling Steve's heart beating against his reactor and gripping him closer. "Steve, _wake up_! I _need you_ , Steve! Please wake up, _please!_ I _need you_!"

Steve stirred, finally, at the sound of Tony's cries, blinking blearily at the light filtering in through the room. Tony was still somewhere else, however, babbling on, and Steve was too tired to calm him down or even understand what was going on.

"I'm sorry," Tony cried, "I'm _sorry_ I stopped visiting, I couldn't _find you_ , they _took you away from me_ , and I'm _sorry_ I never kept my promises, I _tried_ to keep myself safe, I _did,_ I really did, but I _couldn't,_ everyone else _hurt me,_ Steve, and I just _couldn't_ anymore, I'm sorry, I _tried,_ I didn't--I didn't _mean to_ , Steve _, Steve_ \--"

Steve opened his eyes completely and hugged Tony tight the second he could force his arms to work, nuzzling his neck and shushing him quietly. Tony didn't hear him, still trapped in his dream.

"Dad hurt," Tony whimpered, "dad hurt, but you were the dream. You were _my_ dream. It was always you, Steve, always and forever, and I just kept dreaming of you, but you didn't wake up..."

"Tony, I did." Steve promised, his voice slow and slurred with sleep. He was confused, terribly so, but he just wanted Tony to be all right. He could handle some confusion. 

"I'm sorry..." Tony whispered. "I meant to stay safe. I _did._ I _promised you_. Remember? I promised...promised my _husband_ that I'd be safe, 'cause that's what you do when you're going to be married, and _dad_ wanted--no _, I_ wanted--and I _said_ I'd stay safe, I _promised,_ but I _couldn't_ , everyone _hurt me_ , and so then I hurt _myself_ , and Steve, I got scared, and then you weren't _there_!"

Steve knew Tony was still frightened and hurting, but he couldn't deny the way his heart pounded against his chest at Tony's words. _Husband. Marriage_. God, _yes._ If he only could. Someday. Someday when things were better.

"Tony, I'm sorry," Steve murmured, returning to the situation at hand, "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I don't know who took you away from me, but they never will again. I'm going to be here with you, always." He kissed the top of Tony's head, tender and gentle. "Tony, I'm so proud of you for simply staying alive, after all you've been through. I'm honored it was for me. And I _know_ you did the best you could to keep your promise." Steve told him. "I'm awake, Tony. And I can fufill your dream with you now. It's all I want."

Tony sniffled, but the tears had begun to stop flowing, and that was something. Steve just continued to cradle him close, settling back on the bed and situating Tony in his lap. 

"It wasn't _enough,_ though," Tony murmured, "just to try to keep that promise, I mean. It didn't keep me safe. And I _lied_ to you, Steve, I said..I said I'd keep myself _safe_ , but I _couldn't_...and it's _not enough_ just to try. It just means I'm _worthless."_

Steve hugged him tight and wished that could be enough to keep Tony aware of just how much he really meant. It would have to be a start...

"Maybe you weren't meant to keep it on your own." Steve replied. That perked Tony up, and he looked at Steve, interested. Steve smiled and kissed his forehead. 

"Maybe, Tony, just maybe...you made that promise so _I_ could come back and help keep it for you." Steve whispered. "You promised to keep yourself safe. And just last night, I promised that _I_ would help take care of _you_ and keep you safe." Steve grinned. 

"Tony, as far as I'm concerned, you kept your promise; you stayed alive to be with me." He told him. "You kept your promise to me, and to yourself, and I couldn't be prouder." 

Tony looked up at him, his eyes wide. He was scanning Steve's face and eyes, searching intently for any sign that the Captain could be lying.

There was none. There never had been.

Tony began to bawl, snuggling into Steve's chest, desperate to comfort himself with the warmth of Steve's skin and the reminder that he was alive. Steve stroked his hair for awhile and soothed him, murmuring gentle promises and words of comfort into his ears. Eventually, Tony calmed down enough that, considering it was only six in the morning, he could fall back asleep, curled up in Steve's lap and breathing softly.

Steve held him tight and tucked him back in underneath the covers where they would both be warm and safe. It was the least he could do to help keep their promise.

...

Coulson was shaking by the time they made it back to the mansion, from stress and exhaustion both. He wanted to curl up and sleep for a week, Clint and Natasha in his arms, so he could assure himself that they were safe, safe and sound in his arms where they ought to be...

Instead, he was sitting in Tony's kitchen, his hand on Thor's shoulder as the god did his best to tell them exactly what had transpired.

"I do not know where they took my brother," Thor began, his voice low and rough, "but they said he was dangerous. That _my Loki_ was a menace...too dangerous to be allowed to remain where he had been when we talked last." Thor swallowed. "Fury told me upon my arrival that Loki was still being gauged as a threat...and that until his level of risk was adequately discussed and decided upon, he was not allowed to see anyone. Myself included."

"And this was after you two talked?" Natasha murmured. Thor nodded. She sighed and put a hand on his forehead before running her fingers through his hair comfortingly.

"Thor, perhaps they did this to punish your brother." She told him. Thor looked heartbroken at the very idea. She sighed. "I know that sounds cruel, but it is how S.H.I.E.L.D. operates. Clint and I used to be threatened with solitary confinement if we strayed from anything on a mission. If you have a bond, they will try to exploit it. This was not done because Fury is after you...it is because he wants your brother to suffer. For whatever reason."

"I would not treat my most hated enemies in such a manner!" Thor cried, his voice rough. "To treat my brother in such a way is one thing; perhaps he is dangerous, though as S.H.I.E.L.D. continues to do this, I begin to doubt it more and more, but--to do it to your _warriors_ , your _comrades_...that is _inexcusable_!" He snarled. Rage drove away his sorrow as he stood upright, his eyes blazing. Natasha simply shrugged.

"It is the way." She replied. "They force it so that you create emotional bonds to remain sane, and then they choke you with them. It is efficient."

"But it is not _humane,_ " Thor said, "and their warriors are human." He put his hand in her hair now, mimicking her own gesture and stroking the locks tenderly. "You do not deserve to be treated in such a manner, Natasha. Neither does my brother, nor Clint. S.H.I.E.L.D. is flawed. Surely you know this...?"

"We did," Clint finally spoke up, his face still ashen, "we _knew_ it was a nightmare to work here, that they hurt us and abused us and didn't care about us...but...we don't know who else to be but agents." He shrugged. "So that's why me and Nat and Phil joined the Avengers. I guess...we knew something like S.H.I.E.L.D. would never keep good guys like you stuck in it forever...and we hoped, maybe, if we had friends...a team...we could be safe." He put his hand on Thor's shoulder and grinned comfortingly. "And we will be. And Loki's gonna be safe, too. We're all going to make it out of this fine...just fine. Okay?"

"I...I do not know anymore." Thor confessed. Clint sighed.

"Yeah, I felt like that a lot too," he replied, "so don't worry. It's natural. But we'll make a plan..."

"I can only hope it will succeed." Thor whispered, distraught. Clint nodded.

"It will." He promised. 

Coulson hadn't said anything since he had come in. He remained where he was, his eyes blank and his whole body pricked with goosebumps. He was terribly cold.

...

Steve awoke again, Tony snuggled up in his arms, smiling softly in his sleep. Steve smiled at the sight of him and brushed his lips across the top of his head, gentle and comforting. He stroked his hair and planted tender kisses across Tony's face, never touching his lips, until Tony awoke awhile later, warm and content.

"Hey," he mumbled sleepily, "no more nightmares, okay?"

"No more nightmares...good, that's good." Steve replied, smiling brightly and continuing to kiss Tony. Tony grinned and laughed quietly, wriggling in his embrace a little as Steve nuzzled his cheek. 

"Do you hear something downstairs?" Tony asked. Steve nodded, arms encircling Tony instinctively, as if he feared it was a threat. 

"I do," he murmured, and as he listened closer, he relaxed, adding, "it sounds like Thor, though. We should go down and check on him..."

"B-but I want to stay in bed with you!" Tony pouted, eyes sparkling as Steve chuckled lightly and kissed his forehead.

"If we're not needed today." He promised. "I don't know if they'll want me to come in, but you're out until you heal up."

"I bet Nick will want you to stay here with me..." Tony murmured, shrugging slightly and adding, "he seems really...like, weirdly supportive. I don't know what the hell to say to Nick goddamn Fury playing matchmaker, but...hey, I get to stay with you." He brightened up and grinned. Steve smiled.

"In that case, I'll make you breakfast downstairs and then tuck you back in." He promised, giving Tony a gentle kiss on his smooth forehead, unfurrowed by fear or nightmares. "Then we'll stay in bed all day and I'll kiss your injuries better. How does that sound?"

"Like..." Tony's eyes got soft and dreamy and he smiled, delighted, "like everything I ever wanted."

"Good." Steve said cheerfully. "But we have to see to Thor first."

Tony grumbled, but nothing could bring down his mood after that, and so he walked downstairs with Steve amicably, hand in hand as his heart began to beat a little faster at the feeling of Captain America's hand in his, alive and warm.


	57. Flashbacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson loses his mind a little. PTSD's a bitch. A real plan is hatched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for those of you who may wonder where the plot has gone, wonder no longer! There is still a plot! This is just a fucking long story! Sorry about that!  
> Anyways...ugh, I try not to make this spoiler-y...but yeah. I did the best I could--it's nothing you haven't learned at this point from previous chapters, but it still drives me crazy! First world prequel problems, I guess.  
> Anywho, so; Phil has...unresolved mental issues in regards to injuries. And he's currently under a lot of strain. This will make a bit more sense after key events in A Man and His Toy Soldiers; for now, just know this mental snap is ENTIRELY justified.  
> Also, the team taking care of Phil is a guilty pleasure of mine. I want all the fics of the team taking care of Phil and/or Pepper. Because those two do so much and get so little in return...  
> Oh and Tony getting taken care of and babied is another majorly guilty pleasure of mine, in case that's not obvious. Sometimes I just like him in pain because then I can have someone--usually Steve--take care of him afterwards. Sorry I'm not sorry about that.  
> Hope you all enjoy this chapter, and sorry about the time between updates!

Steve made his way down into the kitchen with Tony at his side. Even though Tony was beside him, Steve was still shielding him, almost; his body was angled as such that he could immediately scoop up Tony in his arms if he needed to, and he kept shooting glances at him carefully, as if he was worried Tony's injuries would somehow become aggravated simply from him standing there.

It was, perhaps, Tony's injuries that caught Coulson's eye and made everything come tumbling down. Or it might have been the way Steve had been trying to protect him. It might've been that Thor's questions and experience had dragged out festering wounds Coulson wasn't ready to lance. Or it might have just been that Coulson was very, very tired, and the world seemed out to get him at this point.

Regardless, as the two of them stood in the doorway, he was not seeing Tony and Steve--he was seeing someplace far away and long ago, bright as a gunshot within his memory, and shaded in grey and crimson.

"Stay _down_ , Clint!" Coulson suddenly cried, standing up and grasping Steve's shoulders. "Please, just _stay down_! I've got Natasha! I've got you! You're okay! Clint, _please!"_

No one save Clint and Natasha had ever heard Coulson speak in such a manner. The desperation in his voice chilled them all to the bone.

Steve tried to pull away instinctively, eyes wide. This just made Coulson grip him harder, panic making his grip like steel.

"Please, Clint, you're going to die! Y-you're _bleeding,_ and I--I--stay _down,_ please, lay down on the couch, I'm right here, it's all right, I'll take care of you--Clint, Clint....ssh..." Coulson was clinging to him, like he didn't see anyone else--or, more likely, that he wasn't seeing the present then and there. His eyes were as grey as the past, and dead as winter.

"Phil?" Steve said, his voice gentle with understanding as he tried to reach out and stroke his hair. "Phil, calm down. It's okay. Phil. Please. I'm fine..."

"No you're not!" Coulson shouted, and the roar in his voice made them all jump. "I said _stay down_ , Clint! _You are not dying on me_! Stop it! I've got Natasha! You can rest!" He close his eyes and bit back a gasping sob. 

"You're not alone anymore, Clint," he whispered, his voice soft and pained, "I'm here. I'm right here, love. Stay down. Rest. Please."

Steve sat down at the table because there was nothing else that he could do. Out of all of them, save for Clint and Natasha themselves, only he understood what was going on, and he grieved over it.

"Phil, darling..." Natasha murmured. Coulson heard her, but he did not see her, not as she was in that kitchen. His hand was on Tony's cheek, tender and careful as he examined the bruising with a careful eye.

"Natasha, lay down. My love, rest," he whispered, his voice low and pregnant with emotion, "I've got you. You're bleeding...you're _bleeding_ , my love, you must lay down...time to rest, Natasha. I've got you." He closed his eyes and began to sob. The tears echoed off the walls of the kitchen and reverbrated in their eardrums. Everyone else shuddered.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm sorry I couldn't take care of you. Fury's orders...Fury's orders...my darlings, oh...I'm sorry. I'm sorry..." Coulson inhaled a ragged, harsh breath. "I'm sorry, darlings. I didn't know. Fury's orders...I couldn't...couldn't take _care_ of you...please...Natasha, lay down, you're _dying_..."

Tony met Coulson's eyes and saw that he wasn't really looking at _him._ There was too much pain to see him there, hollowed out eyes that looked as dull as glass, forever looking into the past.

Tony understood pain. He grieved for it. And as much as Coulson drove him up a wall sometimes...pain called to pain. And he would help. Phil deserved nothing less.

He sat down, taking Coulson's hand in his. 

"Phil, you saved me. I'm going to live," Tony promised, aware in some part of the back of his mind that he wasn't sure how much of what he was telling him was faked or spoken as Natasha, "I'm going to live, all because of you. You saved me, Phil. We're both going to be all right. Sit, Phil. We're going to be okay..."

"Okay," Coulson said, his voice thick with tears, "okay. I'm right here. Let me just sit with you for a moment, darlings, then I'll get bandages...I've got you, I've got you..."

His task evidently complete, he fell asleep, too exhausted to keep his eyes open any longer.

For a very long minute, everyone stared at each other. Clint and Natasha looked utterly haggard, tears in their eyes.

"We'll put him to bed," Natasha finally murmured. "If you'll excuse us..."

"No," Pepper said, standing up and grabbing her arm, giving her a look, "we're all going with you." She put her hand on Coulson's shoulder.

"He took care of all of us," she began, "when we were hurting and couldn't take care of ourselves. And that's why this happened. So...now that we're okay...the least we could do is take care of him when he needs it." 

Natasha looked like she wanted to protest; before she could, Thor stood up and met her gaze. She blinked, trying not to show her surprise at the pain in the god's eyes.

"The Son of Coul is owed this much and more from all of us, Natasha. He has done well today. He has made his ancestors proud. I would honor his sacrifice, same as you. It is the least I can do, given the givens." Thor murmured. "He is ours too, is he not?"

Natasha looked at Clint. The archer nodded, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"He deserves all the care he can get, Nat," he murmured in her ear, too quiet for the others to hear. "Let him have it. He's still ours where it counts. We know that." 

Satisfied, Natasha nodded, allowing the others to come closer and fuss over Phil, helping him out of his jacket and taking off his shoes, getting him ready for bed.

"Should I--" Steve began, before Pepper held up a hand and silenced him with a look.

"No, you've got Tony to tend to, and Phil has all of us." She told him. "You need rest just as much as he does, Tony."

"Take good care of him..." Tony murmured, his eyes surprisingly warm and full of concern. "He's no fun to tease or needle if he's all screwed up like me."

Pepper just kissed the top of his head and murmured in return, "You're not screwed up, Tony, but all right."

Clint had already gotten Coulson into his arms as Pepper organized everything. The weight was heavy, but Clint bore it with grace and a willing air, carrying Phil tenderly into the living room and settling him in on the pull-out couch, tucking him in with practice and ease.

Natasha climbed in beside Phil, curled up on his left side. Clint got in on the right.

Within five seconds, the rest of the team, save Steve and Tony, had piled in beside them, shoes kicked off and tossed aside, jackets wriggled out of and thrown over the pile of blankets, and before they all knew it, they were in a warm pile of people, their hands linked and their bodies pressed against each other as a reminder of comfort and solitude.

If Coulson had been awake, he would have probably wept, moved by the compassion of the team he had cared for and asked for so little in return. 

As it was, with the feel of his lovers' bodies beside him, he simply smiled in his sleep, focused on the future.

...

Tony let Steve heat him up something before they both went back upstairs, Steve balancing the food on a small tray as they did so. Tony knew Steve wouldn't let him rest without having been fed first, which he didn't particularly mind, but it did make him smile a little. Steve kissed his cheek as he smiled, which just made Tony's grin grow wider.

Steve opened the door for him and led him to the bed. Tony suspected that had it not been for the food, Steve would have carried him up to the bedroom. He was surprised at how all right he was with that idea.

"I know it's not much," Steve said quietly, "but I didn't want to be down there any longer. I wanted you back up in bed, safe and sound."

"It's fine, Steve..." Tony soothed him. "I just..." He winced. "Ngh...wrists hurt..."

"Open your mouth, then." Steve said, his voice firm. Tony blushed. Steve actually grinned at that. "I made the great Tony Stark blush? I think I deserve another medal for that." He teased lightly. Tony glared at him, but it was halfhearted.

"You already got all the medals the US government could give you, and half of the ones France and Britain could, besides." He grumbled. Steve just grinned wider. Tony huffed. "In any case, I'm not a baby."

"No, but you're hurt, and I don't mind feeding you," Steve told him, "which means you can relax, Tony. You're safe. I won't hurt you--in any way." He looked at him. "You...you trust me, right?"

Tony sighed and kissed Steve's forehead before sinking back into the pillows.

"You know I do..." He murmured. Steve smiled, taking the bowl of oatmeal into his hand and grabbing the spoon, taking pains not to spill anything as he slipped it into Tony's open mouth. Tony swallowed with ease and little protest; Steve suspected he was half asleep already.

He made it quick, knowing Tony would want to sleep again; Steve had ground up his medicine into the oatmeal anyway, so he didn't need to push Tony to take any more pills. Tony ate what he offered without complaint; in fact, he seemed pleased, humming lightly as he swallowed up what Steve gave him. Steve kissed the top of his head once he finished up the oatmeal, Tony swallowing the last of it as Steve set the bowl down.

"I'm going to stay with you all day, okay?" Steve said, his voice soothing. "The others might have to go to work, though. Is that all right?"

"Mhm..." Tony mumbled, already half asleep. "If you're holding me, I'll be fine. Just...don't you let go, okay?"

"Of course I won't, Tony!" Steve said, as if he was offended by the mere suggestion that he might. Tony couldn't help but grin. Steve kissed his forehead before climbing back into bed with him, settling Tony back in amongst the covers. Tony yawned lightly, tenderly, like a kitten as he snuggled close to Steve. 

Steve took Tony into his arms and wrapped them around his thinner waist, situating Tony so that he fit snugly into all the gaps of Steve's body where he ached to be met with the feel of Tony. Skin met skin and Tony's head found its way to the crook of Steve's shoulder, burying itself in as Tony breathed a soft sigh of delight against Steve's warm, smooth skin.

Steve laid his head on Tony's, breathing in the soft spicy scent of his hair and smiling. Tony snuggled closer.

"I'll be okay," he promised, his voice slow with sleep, "an' so will Phil. Everyone's...taking care of each other now." He smiled. "It's...nice..."

"That's what a team is for, Tony," Steve promised, "and that's what a lover is for, too. I'll take care of you, Tony. Always."

"Mmkay." Tony mumbled sleepily. Satisfied with Steve's promise, he fell back asleep. Steve wrapped his arms around him a little tighter and followed suit, the reactor glowing between them like heaven's light as the lights dimmed and left them in a warm, comforting darkness.

...

Pepper awoke to her phone vibrating. She sighed and nudged her way a little out of the puppy pile before checking her texts and groaning. The sound of her voice awoke Bruce, who immediately tensed with worry at her expression; she put her hand gently on his cheek to soothe him as the others awoke.

"Fury needs us back at base," she said, "there's a debriefing that he needs to give Phil to give to us." She sighed. "We've got twenty minutes, though..."

Coulson blinked blearily, rubbing his eyes and nodding, sitting up and looking around. He didn't seem to remember his freak out, which was fine; he seemed like he had something else to discuss, anyway.

"I need to speak with Clint and Natasha," he told them, "but...before I do..."

Coulson smiled. It was one of the warmest, most genuine smiles he had ever treated them to. 

"Thank you," He said quietly. "I appreciate it."

The emotion behind those simple words was enough to speak volumes. 

The team left him, Clint, and Natasha in peace after that, long enough so that they could speak privately before they left.

The second the door was shut, Natasha pounced on him, burying her hands into his hair and kissing his forehead, cooing with worry as Clint bundled him into his lap, wrapping his arms around them both. 

"We need to talk about you," Natasha began, but Coulson cut her off with a kiss and shook his head.

"No, we need to talk about S.H.I.E.L.D.," he said quietly, "because I'm fine. I _saved you._ I did. So I'm all right. But _they're_ not safe yet. And they'll _never_ be safe if I don't take care of them." 

Natasha sighed, but she knew she had no defense for that, and neither did Clint. So the two of them settled in as Coulson began to talk quietly.

"We are going to need to leave at some point." He said. 

This did not surprise them. All three of them had been awaiting this inevitability for a very long time. 

"If and when we leave," Coulson told them, "we can't leave without Loki. Thor won't let us. And we can't leave unless Steve knows he isn't beholden to Fury in any way, shape, or form." He sighed. "I never thought I'd end up orchestrating getting our most powerful enemy to run away with us, but there you are. And as for Steve, well..."

"Phil, baby?" Clint murmured, his eyes wide and confused as he snuggled close to Coulson. "Nothing's changed. We'd still get caught if we left. And all of us? All of us together, unable to split up or hide--we'd get taken down so fast...and I...I don't think any of us could handle it if we lost each other." He swallowed, allowed himself a tiny, hesitant laugh. "Could you imagine what Steve would do if he lost Tony?"

"Probably murder half of S.H.I.E.L.D., but that isn't the point." Coulson said, stroking Clint's hair as he cuddled them both close, a silent promise of safety. "The point is that yes, I know not much has changed...but now, with all of them beside us...we can fix that." He promised quietly. 

"How?" Natasha asked, looking up at him. Coulson kissed her forehead.

"They are good people, like we knew they'd be, right?" He said gently. Both of his lovers nodded. Coulson leaned back against the couch and pulled them a little closer. "Well, Thor is worried for his brother and angry at S.H.I.E.L.D. for taking him away. If Loki's as clever as he thinks he is, he'll figure out some way to contact his brother, or one of us, and get a plan together. Once that happens...I don't doubt Thor will unleash some kind of fury upon the headquarters. He can't do that until his brother's safe, though."

"...So you're suggesting we break Loki out?" Natasha blinked, genuinely stunned. Coulson shook his head.

"No, I'm not," he said, "at least, not yet. Not unless we're already sure we're halfway out of S.H.I.E.L.D. and totally safe. He's still a risk, even if Thor's a good influence on him." He sighed. "No, our main goal is to make sure Steve is kept safe from Fury. I know we're already in agreement on that...but we need to step up our game a little." He told them. Clint nodded.

"Okay, baby, that's a great idea...but, like--how do you think we can do that? I mean, it's not like Fury answers to anybody. We can't just go to the President or whatever about this." He said. Coulson nodded, massaging his temples and sighing heavily.

"I know, Clint," he said, "which is why my concern isn't getting Fury to answer to a superior--I want him answering to _Steve_." 

"For what?" Natasha asked, interest clear in her voice. Coulson actually managed a smile.

"What we need to do is make him slip up, plain and simple." He told them both. "We need to get Fury to show his hand so that Steve can see he's being manipulated. Simply telling him isn't enough; he probably won't believe us. Or if he does, he won't react the way we need him to--he'll do something rash, and then everything will be all for naught..." Coulson sighed. "So we need to show Steve that Fury's putting Tony in danger, and using him to do it."

"But he hasn't yet." Natasha protested. Coulson nodded.

"I know, my love, but he's going to, and very soon. Especially since those two have effectively declared their relationship to not just us, but the entirety of S.H.I.E.L.D. after that display during the fight..." Coulson massaged his temples. "So Fury's going to begin making his move. And I'll know soon enough--the debriefing, remember? So..I'll let you know when something happens. And I'll try to start ferreting out information as fast as I can."

"...All right," Natasha said, her voice hesitant, "but please be careful, my love. It will not do to put you at risk. For the team's sake, you must not get caught. If we lose you...then we are _all_ lost, Phil. You must remember that." She pleaded with him. Coulson nodded, kissing the corner of her mouth, gentle and soft, soothing her fears as best as he could. 

"I will, darling," he promised gently, "and I won't get caught. It wouldn't do for the Black Widow's partner to get caught spying, would it?" He teased.

They all laughed at that, and suddenly, Clint kissed Coulson for a minute, deep and passionate; Phil knew full well that the touch communicated all of Clint's fears for his safety and belief that he could pull it off in one searing kiss, and so he held the archer close and kissed him for as long as he could, to remind Clint that he was still alive beneath his touch.

They pulled away, both of them kissing Natasha with the delicate softness of a feather caught in a sunbeam, a promise from the two of them that they would keep her safe and stay safe themselves, and headed into the kitchen to straighten themselves up a little and make some coffee. They had a debriefing to attend.


	58. Anti-Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil is badass. Paperwork sucks. The team is smart. Bruce goes exploring. Pepper just throws her hands up and goes with the whole "now a secret agent" thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live a Phil Coulson appreciation life. Bruce Banner, too. I mean, clever little bb. Master of espionage and being fluffy and cute. It's a privilege and a curse.  
> Anyways, yeah; this is why Loki hasn't just gone "lol fuck you" and busted out; he's basically trapped in a field of magic negation. Any spell he would cast wouldn't even so much as rebound; it just gets absorbed and broken down into something useless. Totally violates a few laws of physics, but then again, it IS magic. And yeah, "magic" is basically the funny word we use for whatever energy mages manipulate in atoms; it's why even Bruce calls it magic. Think of it more like shorthand.  
> Pepper is pretty much a semi-agent now; she's not going to take missions or anything, but she needed to be an agent to have the security clearance to deal with the Avengers the way she does. So she's not technically an agent, but has a security clearance as high as Phil. Because she spent half her life dealing with Tony being...Tony. That was deemed sufficient. And shit, wouldn't it be? You've learned stress management, coping skills, crisis management, how to be a handler, self-defense...all the stuff any agent learns.  
> Sometimes when I want to make Fury seem like less of a dick, I remind you all regularly that he truly cares for Maria and honestly thinks he's doing the right thing. He just...doesn't care about the human cost that comes with it.

Fury made his way down the hallway, Maria by his side. He didn't say anything about the ring she now wore on her right hand. She didn't bring it up. He knew he was getting invited anyway, so he didn't push anything. 

"Sir, is Coulson on his way?" She asked. Fury nodded, heading into his office and shutting the door behind him with a soft click. 

"Indeed he is, but we've got a few minutes." He told her. Maria nodded, taking her usual seat in the office and taking a file off the shelf, thumbing through it as Fury sat at his desk, contemplative.

"Any missions we need to deliver to him aside from this one, sir?" She asked. Fury shook his head.

"Not yet," he told her, "because he's not the one I'm looking to give missions to. This is a diversion, if you will--a way to keep the other Avengers busy." He lit a cigar and closed his eyes, exhaling the smoke out into the room, where it hung in the air for an instant before slipping down, as if dragged by an unseen force.

"Tony is currently at home, recuperating from some minor injuries." Nick began, taking another drag off of his cigar. Maria watched him carefully, a single eyebrow raised.

"Tony should be healed up in a few day's time. In that span of time, Steve will remain in close proximity to him, dressing his wounds, treating them, and ensuring Tony maintains a healthy schedule despite his injuries. This requires intimacy, both physical and emotional." Fury told her. Maria's eyes gleamed with understanding.

"Despite the fact that we both know full well Tony's an absolute whore, Steve is still, to the best of my knowledge, a virgin, which means there's not going to be anything carnal, but...simple nurse-work is enough to get Steve closer to Tony. Once he sees that he can take care of him, he won't protest as much if I send him out on something risky." Nick said, taking a few files off the shelves. "After all, the Captain can take care of him, can't he? And Tony's still reckless, a risk-taker, he'll talk Steve into letting him do it." Nick grinned.

"These missions have been waiting for awhile now for someone stupid enough to do them," Nick remarked, pushing the files across the desk and towards Maria, "and Tony's going to be at that perfect point between completely in love with Steve and yet still a reckless, suicidal brat once he comes back. If we can get these done now...we'll have gotten a few important things out of the way. If Steve gets angry, then we can let it drop for awhile, make ourselves look empathetic and understanding. It works out in our favor either way."

"Sir..." Maria sighed and smiled, taking the files from him. "Have I mentioned you are one of the most clever men I've met lately?"

"Perhaps, but you ought to remember that this was _your_ idea from the start, Maria," he said, his tone not unkind as he regarded her warmly, "and you should be proud. In the end, this works out for everyone. Tony performs his duties as an Avenger and our mission perogative is fufilled, so I'm happy, Tony gets taken care of by Steve, so he's happy, and Steve gets to fuss over him, so he's happy. Everyone comes out of this smelling like roses, and still under my control, which is where they should be, being members of _my team_ and all." He remarked. "And that's all because you know a weakness and you can exploit it with ease. Congratulations, Hill. I'm still glad I picked you as my second."

Maria was actually blushing.

"I...thank you, sir," she mumbled, keeping her head up despite her flushed face, "I do my best. I...intend to fufill your job to the best of my ability someday, you know that."

"I do, I do," Nick said, "which means I have time to give you one more important lesson."

Maria perked up, tilting her head and looking at him intently.

"Remember that you're doing this for the good of _everyone_ ," he said, "not just S.H.I.E.L.D., but the Avengers, and not just for them, but for the whole world. Even if it doesn't seem that way. You've got to be able to make those decisions, Hill, and you've shown you're capable of that."

"Thank you, sir." Maria said quietly.

The two sat in silence for awhile, but it was a comforting silence, and they made no attempt to breach it.

The silence was shattered when they heard a knock on the door. Fury opened his single eye and smiled, a slow, lazy grin, like a lion watching its prey gather at an oasis.

"Come in, Phil." He said. 

A twist of the knob and Agent Coulson slipped in quietly, his eyes neutral and his face blank. Fury watched him for a second before beckoning him forward.

"Good afternoon, Director," he greeted him, "you had a debriefing to impart to me?"

"I did, I did," Fury remarked, his voice casual, "sit down, we've got things to discuss..."

Coulson sat down, his back ramrod straight and a spark alighting within his eyes. He was prepared. And he would not let his team down.

"I'm aware that Stark is going to be indisposed for a day or two, so don't worry about that," Fury began, "and I have already placed the order in that the Captain is in charge of his care. I assume you're going to check on them regularly?"

Coulson kept his face blank. There was distaste and worry curling up in his stomach now, like hot, greasy smoke, but he did not let it show.

"Yes, of course," he said, "in between coordinating the next mission, sir."

"Well, you're in luck; this next mission is relatively simple. Just a little hold-over from Loki's magics, we think." Fury chuckled, shaking his head and leafing through one of the files on his desk. Coulson raised an eyebrow. Fury, answering his unspoken question, said, "Despite the fact that we have Loki in our custody, his magic still remains in a few pockets within the city. We want them destroyed. Trouble is, the only thing that can do that is something Asgardian...so Thor's going to be leading this mission."

"All right," Coulson agreed, "who else are you going to send out?"

"Doctor Banner has a few experiments to perform in the labs here," Fury told him, "which leaves Widow and Hawkeye."

Coulson didn't betray anything on his face. He just nodded.

"I will let them know, sir," he said, "and I will keep tabs on them the entire time. This mission shouldn't take long."

"I doubt it," Fury agreed, "so why don't you take Ms. Potts around and explain a bit more of S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol to her while they're out? It should give you both something to do."

"Understood, sir." Coulson inclined his head. "Should I get going, then?"

"Of course," Fury told him, "dismissed, Phil. And one more thing--" 

He raised an eyebrow and handed him the file. Phil's hands did not stutter as they took it from him.

"Be careful." He said.

They both knew he wasn't just talking about the mission. Coulson smiled like he was.

"I will, sir," he said courteously, "and I'm sure they will be as well."

A threat, then.

Coulson left the room as quietly as he had come. 

Fury just watched him as he left with a single, inscrutable eye. 

...

Pepper was at his side in an instant, her eyes bright as she observed his face.

"It went well," she said, judging the encounter with the same quick eye that she had judged all of Tony's business meetings, "but you're hung up on something."

"Not now, Pepper." Coulson said. His eyes said everything the cameras forbid him to speak aloud. Pepper just nodded, following beside him as they made their way into the meeting room.

"Thor," Coulson said, coming over to the meeting table, "there are evidently still pockets of magic left by your brother throughout the city...Fury thinks they'll react to Mjolnir and you'll be able to get rid of them. He wants Clint and Nat to go with you. Is that all right?"

Thor looked at him for a second. There was something in the god's eyes Coulson had never seen before. It was then he remembered that Thor had fought many, many wars in his time. He knew exactly what was up.

"It would not do to have such things underfoot," he remarked, keeping his tone careful, "so yes. We shall abscond immediately."

Natasha quirked an eyebrow. Coulson knew her well enough to know that she was impressed.

He kissed both Clint and Natasha before they left--quick, gentle pecks on the lips and no more--and let them leave before he turned to Bruce.

"They need you down in the labs," he told him, "you've got an experiment to perform?" Coulson raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't informed of that."

"Forgive me, Phil," Bruce said, but there was a wicked twinkle in his eyes, and Coulson, having seen that same twinkle in Clint's own eyes, recognized exactly what was going on, "it seems like my mind keeps trying to hide things from me these days. I must've forgotten to tell you."

"It's all right," Coulson said, "so long as you don't misplace yourself entirely. I need to be able to find you, doctor."

Bruce's eyes warmed up a little and he smiled, touching Coulson's shoulder briefly. He left the room without another word, but not before stopping and planting a gentle, tender kiss on Pepper's cheek.

Her face was bright red as the two of them stood in the meeting room together, but she didn't so much as sputter as they looked around.

"God, I love them." Coulson said after a moment's pause. 

Pepper just grinned and nodded.

"Definitely." She agreed. 

Coulson beckoned to her and led her out the door. They left together, making their way down the hallway, until Pepper realized with quiet shock that they were leaving the building. She didn't protest, however; she knew Phil had a plan in mind.

They were a block away from base before Coulson sat her down on a bench and looked at her, his eyes sharp.

"Yes," he told her, "there's...an issue I have. But there are cameras everywhere but for the training room. We've got to be careful." 

"Is that why we left?" Pepper asked. Coulson allowed himself a wry grin.

"No," he said, "if anyone asks, we left because we needed to grab a pretzel."

Pepper actually laughed. But the tension hanging about them now was too thick to laugh long, and so it was smothered post haste. She watched Coulson carefully now, her eyebrows raised.

"So..." She asked. Coulson sighed.

"I know he wanted those three out of base. I know _why_ , too." He said, looking out over the city skyline and shaking his head. "Thor is on edge because of Loki. Clint and Natasha know S.H.I.E.L.D., and they know this base. If they got it in their minds to help Thor...with their stealth skills and his strength, they might be able to. Fury wants them out for the time being. They know too much, in the case of my Clint and my Natasha, and they are far too volatile, in the case of Thor. Though what he thinks this little errand will accomplish towards ending Thor's anger, I do not know."

"Bruce?" Pepper asked. Coulson actually cracked a smile.

"I genuinely didn't know he had something going on...which means the good doctor's up to something else." He told her." He's a lot more cunning than he lets people believe. Understandable to keep that well hidden, in all truth. Better they either think he's a retiring little bookworm or a hulking brute, depending on the mood...especially since it allows him to get away with things like this." 

"I suppose..." Pepper chewed her lip a little, nervous. Her concern for him was clear, and Phil understood and empathized with it. "But...that's not foolproof."

"No, it isn't," Coulson agreed, "but he's got a plan. I'll let him run with it, see how it goes." He stood up and stretched. "For now, though, we really ought to go check on Steve and Tony...and I really _should_ start teaching you S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol."

"I love how I've just sort of ended up here," Pepper remarked dryly as they made their way back to the garage, "no application process, no test, no nothing."

"You dealt with Tony for over a decade," Coulson said, getting into his car as she got in beside him, "and that was evidently deemed sufficient process and preparation for the daily stresses S.H.I.E.L.D. life visits upon you."

"Perhaps we should let the interns spend a week with Tony." Pepper suggested, her eyes glimmering with mischief. 

"And I thought Clint was cruel to them." Coulson remarked, pulling out of the garage and smirking in return. Pepper just laughed.

...

Bruce was very quiet when he worked on his experiments, unlike Tony. With Tony, everyone knew exactly what was going on in his experiment, how it was happening, and why. All this information was punctuated by grand hand gestures and the dry air of a man who knows he is smarter than everyone in the entire room, and, quite possibly, the entire building. 

Bruce was not like that. Bruce came in very quietly with his briefcase and a sheaf of papers before settling in and beginning to tinker. If, and only if, someone asked him what he was working on, he would explain, with the air of someone who was eager to teach and to have someone to listen to him. He was quiet and he was peaceful as he worked. 

For an hour, he worked on something in his notes. For another hour, he fiddled with test tubes and vials of glowing green liquid. At the end of that hour, he looked up, finally, and brushed a stray curl away from his face, looking over at Annette.

"Annette, I have to check something down in the basements," he said, "do you happen to have the keys?"

She looked over at his experiment and quirked an eyebrow.

"Containment chambers, doctor Banner?" She said. Bruce nodded. Annette fished through her pockets and tossed him a massive set of keys. "Third door on the left, six stairs down. It's the eighteenth key; they're all numbered."

"Thank you, Annette." He said graciously, bowing his head before he departed, leaving the lab as quietly as he had come, his experiment, whatever it was, still bubbling away as he went down the stairs, seeking his real prize.

...

Bruce walked about the stairwells like he knew exactly where he was going, which was why no one questioned his presence. He slipped through dark hallways like he owned them, walked into rooms he had never seen as if he knew exactly what they held within.

He was looking for something, but he was doing it in such a self-assured way that no one asked him what he was looking for, and so, for a time, he passed through the underbelly of S.H.I.E.L.D. entirely uninhibited by questions or offers of assistance.

It was only when he heard the soft beeping coming from his suit jacket that he frowned and took out the indicator, examining it.

He was not as virulently anti-magic as Tony. He knew full well that things beyond the control of science or reason lurked in the corners of the world, and so, rather than denying them, he worked with them. The magic sensor had been a S.H.I.E.L.D. piece of equipment, meant more to detect magic than the lack thereof...but it seemed it could pick up a lack of even natural magics that came from the sheer miracle of existence, as well. 

Bruce was standing in an entire field of anti-magic.

Once that fact clicked in his head, he began to notice little details that simply confirmed that for him. Small things, like how the color of the floor appeared to be washed out and greyer, and the brass of the doorknobs was dulled. It was strange. The little magic that existed in almost everything was leeched out entirely in this hallway.

Bruce checked the numbers indicating the hallway and subsection he was in and wrote them down on a piece of paper, stuffing it in his pocket for later. Once he gave it to Coulson, he would destroy it.

He didn't know what keys would open any of these doors, but now they had a possible location for Loki--after all, what would dictate such a strong security measure like literally leeching magic from the atoms of everything in the hallway but a Norse god?

Bruce smiled. His work was done.

On his way back upstairs, he went to the room Annette had given him directions to, pretended to rifle through the containers and went back up to her, apologetic.

"They didn't have what I needed," he lied smoothly, "so I'm going to bring this back to my apartment quickly. I'm sure I've got the container there. Thank you for the keys, dear."

She smiled graciously, evidently not having been called dear in a very long time. She waved him out and accepted the keys from him as he left the lab, vials in hand and a grin on his face as he took out his phone and arranged to meet Coulson two blocks away.

When he got there, he gave Phil the piece of paper without a word. Phil read it, read it again, and then promptly took out a lighter and lit it aflame. 

They both watched it burn before Bruce remarked, "They've got him in a field of anti-magic. I don't know how they did it, but S.H.I.E.L.D. literally sucked even the little bit of magic right out of the atoms in the hallway."

"They tend to do that to everything." Coulson remarked dryly. Bruce chuckled at that.

"So, you think it's him?" He asked, his voice hesitant. Coulson nodded.

"Without a doubt," he agreed, "but for now, let's keep him there. He's in a fixed location, and getting too forward right now is risky. We don't need Loki at the moment. Let's wait until we do." He shook his head. "And for the love of god, do not tell Thor."

"I wasn't going to, I'm not an idiot." Bruce protested lightly. Coulson shook his head.

"No, you're not," he said, "and this was, in fact, very clever of you. I'm impressed." 

Bruce grinned, clearly pleased with the praise. Coulson smiled back before checking his phone.

"They're done with the mission," he told him, "which means we all ought to head back to base while they give me a report. It might be interesting; I reccommend you stay."

"I will, it's fine," Bruce said, "do we know if we're going to check on those two, or...?"

"I was planning to, yes, but I believe Pepper was going over right after the report." Coulson grinned. It was a wicked grin, one he had picked up from Clint. It suited him more than Bruce thought proper. 

"You could go with her, of course," he offered in that genial, neutral tone he always took, "and I think she said something about going out for dinner. Perhaps I misheard."

"You're as bad as your archer." Bruce muttered. 

Coulson was still laughing quietly about that as they made their way into the meeting room.

...

Clint had a little scratch underneath his eye. It was the first thing Coulson noticed when he walked into the room, and it was enough to make him rush to Clint's side immediately, checking him over with a practiced air. Clint kissed his hand as it brushed his face and shook his head.

"Nicked myself on a piece of debris, Phil," Clint soothed him, "I'm fine. It's the only injury to report."

Coulson kissed the small cut and murmured something quietly and gently. That was enough to soothe him and convince him of Clint's safety, so he let the archer settle into his seat as he stood up and went back to the head of the table. 

"So, the mission was a simple success, then?" Coulson asked. Thor nodded. There was a distant look in his eyes that Coulson did not like.

"...Aye," he murmured, his voice the dreary grey of rainclouds, "the magic was taken care of. It was nothing of consequence."

Coulson raised an eyebrow. Thor sounded like he had something else to say...

"Is something wrong, Thor?" He asked.

Their eyes met. Thor's eyes were querying, full of the desire to speak but the unwillingness to say it in front of any cameras that could be recording. Coulson gave him a small nod. He didn't see what Thor could tell him that would cause much harm, and getting too secretive might get Fury even more suspicious.

"It was not my brother's magic!" He snapped, standing up and slamming his hands on the table. Coulson winced, anticipating having to order another table in the near future.

"I have known my brother since I was but a child," Thor continued on, his voice ringing out through the room, imperious and heavy with memory, "and the magics of my world always, _always_ sung to my fair Loki, in such obvious ways that no one on Asgard could deny his skill. He is the greatest mage I have ever known, and I have known plenty. He did not fight--he was no warrior, as some mages might be, but he was powerful enough to orchestrate the fall of entire races, worlds, even." Thor said. "And that was _not_ his magic. To claim so would be an insult to the house of Odin."

"So...what?" Clint said, raising an eyebrow. "If it's not Loki's, then whose is it, and why would S.H.I.E.L.D. send us out there after it?"

_S.H.I.E.L.D. is not dumb. It knew full well that the magic wasn't Loki's._

The unspoken knowledge hung in the air, heavy with the promise of treachery and backhanded dealings done in smoke and surrounded by mirrors. They did not remark upon it, for they all knew they all knew it.

"I do not know," Thor said, shaking his head, "but it does not matter. We took care of it. But it was not my brother's." 

"Do you think that's a cause for concern, Thor?" Coulson said, his voice calm and quiet. "I could speak to the Director about your concern, if you believe so."

_No. Nick Fury must not know. We can only chase the beast so far into its lair before it turns around and fights back._

Thor met his eyes and Coulson knew they were thinking the same thing. 

"No," he said, "for the fact that we banished even that magic is enough cause to celebrate. Our defeat and banishment of it was a heroic act, regardless of what villain perpetrated it."

"True," Coulson agreed, "and in any case, I think you're right. It doesn't matter. The mission was completed, and you all came back safely." He managed a smile. "Except for Clint."

"We did," Natasha agreed quietly, smiling, "and you are _such_ a mother hen, Phil, and you know it."

"Hey, someone's got to take care of you," he said lightly, "and with luck, that someone will always be me."

"I hope so." Clint murmured. "Anyways, Phil, what do we do now?"

"We finished the mission for the day, and as far as I know, there's no real threat Fury needs us to deal with..." Coulson trailed off. It was strange, in fact, this almost purposefully manufactured peace. There had to be a reason for it. But he could not speak that aloud.

"So we can go home?" Clint brightened up. Coulson actually laughed at that.

"Well, yes..." he began, before setting a stack of papers on top of the table right in front of Clint, "after you finish your paperwork."

Clint whined and groaned, clinging to Coulson and whimpering pitifully. Natasha just rolled her eyes, and between her and Bruce, got the paperwork done for all of them.


	59. Bathtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is insecure. Steve takes care of him and tries his best to soothe his fears and worries, but there is only so much even Captain America, god of Good Boyfriend Behavior, can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in exchange for last chapter having NO Steve or Tony, have an entire chapter of their fluff that also furthers plot points. Best kind, really.  
> So, to be clear; Tony really wants it. It's not that. It's that he thinks that's all he's capable of giving, or all that Steve will want from him, that's the real problem. And STEVE wants it too, just...doesn't want Tony thinking those things. He wants to try to fix the issues first. Tony is impatient and...well, he's Tony.  
> Anywho, fluff, if you didn't know this already because you never saw my work on other sites, I have a horrible thing for bath scenes/shower scenes, sorry, and, uh, hope you enjoy!

While all this was going on, Steve had far more important things to accomplish during his day. Namely, the care and keeping of one Tony Stark.

They had awoken from their nap together after a few more hours of sleep. It was then, with Tony pressed against him, that Steve realized that the bandages were beginning to look a little battered--in the case of the gash across his chest, bloodied as well. Steve frowned.

"Tony, honey," he murmured gently, "I think we need to change your bandages and apply a little more medicine. Are you ready to get out of bed?"

"Mhm," Tony said, his voice slow and slurred with sleep, "the medicine's in the bathroom. The stuff for the bruises rather than for any infections, I mean."

"Okay, honey." Steve said, stroking his hair. He got up out of bed and went into the bathroom, Tony sitting up in bed to watch him rifle through the medicine cabinets. Steve took out two wide, long tubes and set them on the sink before taking a roll of bandages out as well. 

He left the bathroom and returned to Tony's side, a gentle hand in his sleep-mussed hair. Tony nudged against Steve's palm like a cat eager to be stroked. Steve was happy to oblige, running his fingers gently through Tony's hair. 

"I think you could use a bath, too," Steve said gently, "especially since we were so busy yesterday that we didn't have much time to do that."

"Not a shower?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow. Steve shook his head.

"Well, it's up to you, but I don't think it's as good of an idea," he said, "considering how good water is to have on your wounds. A bath soaks the pain out of your body better than a shower."

"Oh, okay." Tony agreed without further protest, and Steve smiled, kissing his forehead. 

"I'll make sure we put in bubbles." He teased. Tony rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as Steve helped him out of bed. The smile left his face as he yelped in pain, his whole body protesting his movement. Steve was holding him close in an instant, picking him up in another.

"I don't need to be carried around all the time, damn it!" Tony snapped, despite being very pleased about where he currently was. Steve huffed.

"Tony, you're in pain because your whole body took a beating from a giant frost snake. I think you can forgive yourself for being carried around for a little while by the man who loves you and wants only to see you get better. Right?" Steve told him, looking down at him with a sharp gaze. 

Tony grumbled, but they both knew he was helpless whenever Steve brought up how much he loved him and wanted to take care of him. There was always the unspoken message there that Tony was getting taken care of regardless of how much he complained about it.

However, that did still mean he got to complain about it.

"Yeah, but you're Captain America, not my goddamn nursemaid," Tony muttered, "and I'm not a baby. I can walk."

"Weren't you just howling in pain from your injured legs acting up?" Steve said, keeping his voice mild and pleasant. Tony grumbled. For every complaint, however, Steve had a snappy retort. It was one of the other ways he managed to silence Tony's whining. He was clever, Tony would give him that.

"I managed to survive getting tortured in Afghanistan, I can handle a little bit of a leg cramp." Tony reminded him. Steve's grip tightened at that. Tony realized a little too late that the subject of his imprisonment and torture was probably not something he wanted to joke about in front of Steve.

"I am very proud of your strength and determination, Tony, but there is a time and place for it," Steve said through clenched teeth, "and when your lover is in charge of you, and you are completely safe from all harm, that is _not_ the time when you need to draw on your strength. Save it for when you _do_. For now, you will let someone else take care of you. Understood?"

"Okay," Tony murmured, sounding surprisingly apologetic, "sorry, Steve."

Steve sighed, pulling him closer and hugging him tight.

"No _, I'm_ sorry, Tony," Steve replied, his voice low and contrite, "I know this is hard for you to adjust to so suddenly...but I promise, it's a good thing. I just want you to be happy, darling--happy and safe and well-protected." 

"I am," Tony promised, "and I know I'm safe. I've got you."

Steve closed his eyes then, as if to better drink in Tony's words. Tony realized then that a few tears had slipped past his eyelids. He blinked.

"Steve?" He ventured hesitantly, as if afraid to know what would trouble him so. Steve's hand found his and squeezed tightly.

"And I am sorry," he whispered, "that I was not there to protect you before."

"It's okay," Tony reminded him, lifting Steve's hand up and putting it over the arc reactor. "You're here now. And when you weren't...I took care of myself. For you."

"No, Tony," Steve said gently, "you did it for yourself. And that makes me happier than you could know. All I want is for you to see how important and special you are, and how you should treat yourself as such." He smiled. "That's another part of the reason I love the reactor, when I think about it...it's a sign that, even for a little while, you saw yourself as someone worth taking care of."

Tony actually laughed at that, leaning his head on Steve's shoulder.

"Wow, between the two of us taking care of me, we might actually have a fully functioning Tony Stark up and running in a month or two." He remarked. 

He was surprised by the tightness of Steve's sudden grip, and the gentle warmth of his sudden kiss.

"I hope so," Steve whispered as he pulled away, "because that's what I want, more than anything."

Tony let himself relax after that, safe in the knowledge that the person he had given all his trust to, just for once, wanted to do something good with that. Steve just held him tight with one strong arm as he used his free hand to begin drawing up Tony's bath.

...

It was weird to take a bath, to be completely honest. Tony couldn't remember the last time he had bathed--showers had become a frustration eventually, a stumbling block between him and spending his time in the lab constantly. An even longer bath? Out of the question.

Still, Steve had said it was a good idea, and he probably wouldn't let him into the lab until after he had healed up a little more anyway, so Tony decided to relax for a few minutes and bathe. It had been a long time since he'd done it, after all.

The bubble bath mix Tony hadn't even known he had owned was promptly dumped in the warm water, (not too hot, because Steve was nothing if not the world's most fussy mother hen), and fluffed up with a few gentle stirrings of Steve's strong hand throughout the water. Tony watched as he added more bubbles; Steve seemed enchanted by them, and as such, by the time Tony's absolutely massive tub was filled up, the bubbles had begun to spill over the edge. Tony couldn't help but laugh. 

"Is there even any water left in that tub?" He remarked from his place on the lip of the sink, where Steve had set him down as he fussed over the bath. Steve smiled.

"I think it's time you find out." He told him. Tony rolled his eyes, but he had already decided to go along with Steve's little plan, so he didn't protest much more than that. 

...Not that Steve had to know he was just going along with it.

As he met Steve's eyes, though, he quirked an eyebrow, realizing that a light pink color had started to seep into the captain's cheeks.

"Er," he said, gesturing to Tony's hands, "do your wrists still hurt, darling?"

"A little..." Tony confessed, a bit unsure as to where the conversation was going. Steve's cheeks flushed darker.

"Do...do you need my help..." Steve gestured vaguely to him and then vaguely back to the bath. "With, you know...these...things...bathing and undressing, or..."

Tony stared at him, unsure how to yell at a man for recreating his teenage sexual fantasies without sounding completely insane.

"I'm sorry," Steve apologized, because evidently, he took Tony's silence for something other than a decade or so of pent up arousal punching Tony in the groin, "I just--oh my _goodness_ , I'm sorry, I--that was _horribly_ forward, and I--oh _gosh,_ come _on,_ Steve, you _know better_ \--"

"Help would be great, thanks." Tony said, his voice hoarse. God, he hoped he didn't look as desperate as he sounded. The steam from the bath had made the mirror impossible to look into. "I mean, it just hurts to move them any more than I have to."

"Oh!" Steve brightened up at that, and Tony was just going to die right here and now, thank you very much. "You're welcome, Tony! You know I just want to help!"

_Could you please want to_ fuck me _, too? That would be_ great _, thanks._

"Thanks, Steve," Tony said, ignoring his other desires, "don't worry, you're not being too forward. I probably wouldn't be able to bathe by myself, let alone undress."

"Okay..." Steve smiled, clearly nervous. Tony was about to fall off the lip of the sink, he was shaking so violently. "I...well, I'll be careful not to catch your shirt on the reactor, Tony."

"Thanks," Tony said, "but believe me, even _I'm_ not that coordinated. And I'm _very_ good with my hands."

If that innuendo even reached Steve's innocent virgin ears and was properly comprehended, he didn't show it. Steve just nodded, focusing intently on the reactor as his hands grabbed Tony's shirt and began to very gently lift it up, his fingers barely skimming Tony's skin as he managed to pull the shirt off without ever touching the reactor.

Tony inhaled sharply as the shirt came all the way off and was set aside. Steve looked up at him, the question clear in his eyes. Tony smiled and nodded.

Steve leaned in and nuzzled the reactor, the warm surface of the machine scraping gently against his lightly tanned cheek. Steve pulled away enough to kiss it tenderly, his lips sending a hum throughout the reactor and a shiver down Tony's spine.

"I don't think I'll ever stop being amazed by this wonderful machine." Steve confessed, a slight blush to his cheeks as his hands slipped down. Tony willed himself to refrain from getting aroused. Not until the bubbles could hide it.

"That's okay," he managed to say as Steve's hands went to his hips, "I...I'm not gonna lie, I love that you like the thing so much. It's...a relief. No one else thought it was beautiful. A few people tolerated it...most ignored it or were scared of it...but...only you..." Tony trailed off as Steve's fingers slipped in between the fabric of his pants and over his skin.

"Only you thought it was ever beautiful." He finished as Steve pulled his pants down, averting his gaze and blushing heavily. Tony would have thought it was adorable if it wasn't breaking his heart.

"...Isn't the rest of me beautiful too?" He asked, hating himself for the pain in his voice and being unable to banish it anyway. 

Steve nodded eagerly, but he still wasn't looking at him. Tony wilted, self confidence leaking away and pain filling up the holes in his heart it left behind.

"...Steve?" Tony ventured. "Aren't I..."

"The most beautiful person I've ever seen in my life." Steve whispered. That brightened Tony up a little, but not by much. Steve seemed to sense this, and he sighed, putting gentle fingers against Tony's bruised skin.

"Tony, sweetheart, you are stunning." Steve told him, stroking the skin, keeping his gaze above Tony's waist. "But darling, it's only been a few days since we began a relationship. All I want from you right now is to heal and get healthy. I just would like to hold you and help you...nothing else. Not yet. No matter how beautiful you are."

He didn't want him. 

_He didn't want him._

Tony wanted to cry. 

"Not yet?" He managed to say without sniffling pathetically like the unfuckable prick that he was "M-maybe..."

"Tony, honey, ssh..." Steve soothed him, stroking his hair as he pulled him close. "Sweetie, what's gotten into you? I'm not saying you're not beautiful--far from it! And I'm not telling you I wouldn't...wouldn't like to, you know..." Steve shrugged and blushed. In any other situation, Tony would have found it cute. Right now though, his heart was being beaten to a pulp, so he just quietly grieved.

"But not yet," he said, his voice firm, "because you need to be healed up and tended to a little more before I'm ready to take that step with you. It'll change a lot for the both of us...and that scares me a little, to be honest...I mean, I've never..." Steve swallowed. "So we'll get everything else sorted out first, okay?"

Tony was shaking underneath Steve's touch. He didn't know what to do about it, in all honesty. The only way to placate Tony's fears seemed to be making love...and Steve wasn't ready for that. He knew that. 

So the best he could do was to soothe Tony's worries with some gentle touches and promise lovemaking later. It didn't feel like enough, and that hurt. A lot.

But as he met Tony's eyes and saw them soften a little with what was unmistakably love, Steve relaxed, smiling up at him.

"Okay," Tony whispered, "okay. But...when I'm ready?"

In response, Steve pressed a kiss to his neck that left Tony shaking for an entirely different reason.

As Steve guided him into the tub and sat him down, Tony leaned his head back and relaxed, the touch of Steve a small comfort against the crippling pains of his insecurity. It was not all he needed, but it was a very good start, and so Tony was content.

Steve finally started in on his bandages, unraveling them as they softened underneath the deluge of warm water. He had them off quickly, and Tony hissed in pain as the water seeped into his injuries, making Steve jump and reach out to him, as if to grab him from the water. Tony grinned and waved him off, shaking his head.

"I'll be all right," he promised, "besides, this'll help disinfect everything."

"True..." Steve still looked hesitant, adding, "if it gets to be too much, please tell me, sweetheart. I'll pull you right out."

"I'll be fine, you're mother henning again," Tony chastised him, adding brightly, "not that I don't think it's adorable, but..."

Steve blushed, but he was smiling as he took the creams off the sink and set them on the rim of the tub.

"When you're done getting scrubbed clean and dried off, we'll put these on, okay?" Steve promised him. Tony nodded, closing his eyes in contentment as Steve picked up a washcloth and rubbed a bar of mint soap over it before soaking it and getting it wet and full of suds. Tony didn't even open his eyes as Steve rubbed his back with the cloth, far too warm and content to dream of moving. Steve handled him gently as he ran the cloth over Tony's back, taking extra care to run over the scars with a bit more tenderness, so Tony knew he both acknowledged their existence and wanted to tend to them.

Tony moaned softly as Steve massaged all the kinks out of his back, feeling discs slip back into place and bones groan as they reset, leaving Tony effectively lost in what felt like an endless waterfall of pleasure washing over his whole body. Steve's fingers moved from his back to his shoulders after a few minutes, and then, very carefully, he ran the washcloth around the reactor, scrubbing the nearby skin lightly in small circles. 

Tony didn't even tense up at that, not even when the cloth rubbed up against the reactor. Steve couldn't help but feel pride and relief at that, and he kissed Tony's forehead, hoping that his pride and love for Tony and his inner strength got through from his lips and into Tony's mind.

Tony just smiled, his eyes still closed and his whole body relaxed with pleasure as Steve continued down, his hands shaking a little as they scrubbed across Tony's chest before traveling down to his stomach, still scrubbing the skin lightly, the soap bubbles shining across Tony's skin.

Tony leaned his head against Steve's chest as the blond blushed and pulled his hand away just as he dipped past Tony's stomach. Tony, to Steve's surprise, didn't protest. He just murmured, as if half asleep, "When we're ready..."

Steve felt a surge of relief as Tony shifted in the tub enough to let him lift his legs up for Steve to wash clean. Tony didn't protest further as Steve washed off the last of him, letting him settle into the tub.

"I'm going to go make us something to eat, okay, sweetheart?" Steve said gently. "Can you stay in here for a little while?"

Tony nodded, sinking into the water and smiling up at Steve through the bubbles.

"All right," he promised, "but come back soon, okay? I don't want to get all wrinkly in here." Tony teased. Steve laughed, ruffling his hair and standing up, making his way out of the bathroom to let Tony soak in peace, warm and content.

...

With a bit of instruction from JARVIS, Steve had some food prepared in about twenty minutes. He made his way upstairs with the tray, setting it on the bedside nightstand and heading back into the bathroom. Tony was still situated in the tub, but his hair was wet and slick; Steve suspected he had run some conditioner through it and washed it out already.

"Are your wrists feeling any better, Tony?" Steve asked. Tony nodded, turning his head to look at him.

"Yeah," he told him, holding his hands up for Steve to see, "being in the bath helps. I guess you were right."

"Tony, I'm always right." Steve said. Tony huffed, amused.

"You're starting to sound like me," he said, "which is good. Can I get out of the tub now?"

"Depends," Steve said, "do you feel better? If you don't feel ready, I can reheat the water..."

"No, I think we've done all the hydrotherapy possible for today," Tony told him, "and besides, honestly? I'm starved."

"Good!" Steve said brightly. "I made something for you to eat, so if you're going to eat, then let's get you out of the tub and get you all bandaged up!"

"You are inordinately happy about me eating something." Tony remarked.

"I know!" Steve replied, still grinning. Tony couldn't help but smile, even as he rolled his eyes.

He let Steve help him out of the tub and put a robe on, tying it shut as they made their way back into the bedroom, the crimson silk rubbing against Tony's skin as he sat on the bed. The creams and ointments for his ailments were in Steve's gently-clenched hand, the bandages in his other. Tony selected a sandwich off the tray and raised an eyebrow up at him. 

"Um, I've got experience dressing wounds, so...don't worry, okay?" Steve said quietly. Tony shook his head.

"I wasn't worried," he promised, "I trust you. Should I, uh, take off the robe?"

"Just until I've got everything bandaged up, yes..." Steve blushed again. Tony was beginning to find it amusing. If he took a drink every time Steve blushed...well, even _he_ might start to think he had a drinking problem.

Tony undid the robe and let it fall around his feet. Steve smiled, but his gaze was still fixated only on Tony's upper chest. Tony didn't bring it up. Not yet.

Steve daubed the creams over his bruises and cuts, bandaging them up with expert cinching and a gentle touch. Tony was properly bandaged up in a matter of ten minutes, and he could still feel Steve's warm, loving touch on him as his lover pulled away, looking at his handiwork.

"I think these'll be healed up in another day," he said, "and honestly, I can't wait to be back out in the field with you. I think it'll be just...amazing." He smiled. "So long as you stay safe, and I'm there to protect you."

"Always," Tony teased him, "because I'm not really in the business of dying when I have someone like you to come home to." He chuckled. "Call me selfish."

"Or maybe just a very good lover." Steve murmured. Tony blinked, raised a single eyebrow, and looked at him. Steve just kissed his forehead.

"Don't worry about it, Tony," he told him, "just eat up. I made your favorite sandwiches."

After that, the two of them sat together in bed, the TV on and playing no program in particular, both of them munching idly on their food, more focused on the feeling of communion that sharing dinner and staying together, warm and safe, awarded them. Eventually, Tony fell back asleep on Steve's shoulder--the medications he was taking for the wounds caused drowsiness, and having just spent almost three-fourths of an hour in a warm bath certainly helped.

Steve just smiled and let him nap for awhile. If he was feeling better, he could go back into the lab when they awoke, and, truth be told, he knew they would end up being in there for awhile. Let Tony rest now.


	60. Paperwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil tries what he's best at to save Steve and Tony. Only time will tell if it works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sixty chapters, oh my fuck.  
> So I guess you can consider Take Me Home canon, if you like. And no, Tony doesn't talk about his time working on the new element much.  
> Phil is the best. Just...so tired, I'm sure, but he's willing to do so much more than any of them know for his team. He lied to his childhood hero, the paragon of honesty and righteousness, to keep him safe. That takes guts.  
> Also Steve is still a mother hen, the end.  
> And random poly love at the end because they're not getting their due at the moment and this saddens me.

"Why are we going back to Tony's house?" Clint asked, tilting his head. Coulson sighed and turned around to look at him for a second before turning up the driveway towards Tony's mansion.

"Simple," he said, "I need to see to Steve."

"Why?" Clint asked. Coulson huffed.

"Because he needs to know that from now on, all of his and Tony's paperwork will be directly routed through me." Coulson said. "I'm sure I can come up with a good explanation as to why that needs to happen by the time we all get inside."

"I'm sure you can, Phil," Natasha murmured, putting her hand on his from her place beside him, "but are you sure that is the best idea? It puts you at risk."

"Not particularly," Phil said, "not if I file everyone else's paperwork through me as well..."

Clint and Natasha flickered their gaze towards each other, considering. That meant a lot more sleepless nights for their Coulson, and a lot more stress as well. 

"No," Natasha told him, "that may be the official excuse, but Clint and I will help you work. You are not alone in this, Phil, and you are not to place undue burdens upon yourself." She kissed his cheek. Phil sighed.

"Natasha...Clint..." He looked away, but the gleam in his eyes before he did told them both what they needed to know. 

"Darlings, you're not to stay up late either," he chastised them lightly, gently, and made them both smile as he added, "but yes, we can get it done together. Clint's gotten very good at forging my signature."

"To the benefit of S.H.I.E.L.D., of course." Clint said primly. Both Coulson and Natasha just smirked at each other.

They pulled into the mansion's garage, making their way in through the side door. Clint made a beeline for the kitchen, Natasha following after him. Coulson huffed, amused, and made his way upstairs towards Tony's room. He was pretty certain Steve would still be in there.

He knocked on the door gently, only to hear Tony call, "Onesec!" 

He blinked, surprised. Phil hadn't been expecting Tony to be awake--Steve was such a mother hen when Tony wasn't injured...

Tony opened the door and raised an eyebrow, looking at him.

"Glad to see you're all right, Tony." Coulson said, looking at him in kind. He really _did_ look much better. More relaxed, his muscles less stiff with pain. He seemed so much more at ease, in a genuine, peaceful sort of way rather than a devil-may-care style, as he was accustomed to, and Coulson relaxed in turn. Seeing Tony like that and being able to compare it to when they had met for that time back in California...well, it was a relief to see him this way now.

"Thanks, Phil," Tony said, "but we both know you didn't just come here to mother hen me. You know Steve's got that covered." He looked at him, considering. "So what's up?"

"I need to speak with Steve." Coulson told him. "Is he in your room?"

"Yeah, he's--"

"I'm right here, Phil," Steve said, standing behind Tony and wrapping a single arm around his stomach, pulling him close, "what's wrong?" 

"I just need to go over a change in procedure with you, Steve." Coulson explained. "Will Tony be all right?"

Steve smiled, stroking Tony's hair and smoothing out all the tangles as best as he could. Tony grumbled, but he looked like he was enjoying it. 

"He's going down into the lab for a little while," Steve explained, "with my permission, of course, and supervision. I was going to go down with him, but Pepper will, if you need to speak to me. I'll join him shortly after."

"You sure you want him in the lab?" Coulson asked, shocked. Steve chuckled.

"Mother henning him, Phil?" He teased lightly. Coulson sighed.

"Old habits die hard..." He said, shrugging. "I kept an eye on him for awhile before you came back. I suppose I was just worrying again."

"You did?" Steve said, surprise clear on his face. Evidently, he and Tony hadn't discussed Tony's little breakdown in detail. "Oh, my." Steve looked at Tony for a second, considering. Coulson was stunned by the love in his eyes, and the sheer force of emotion welling up around him. Steve gripped Tony a little tighter, as if to reassure himself the other man was still there in his arms.

"Well, then, thank you, Phil," Steve murmured, "for taking care of him when I couldn't."

"Someone had to." Phil said, shrugging it off. He didn't like to hold the time he had spent with Tony over his head and bring it up; Tony didn't like to think about that part of his life. Not that he really _blamed_ him...

"...Tony, honey, please be careful when you go into the lab," Steve finally said after a moment more of holding him, "for my sake and Phil's, all right?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm heading down before I get smothered to death. Love you." Tony said, grinning as he pecked Steve's cheek and made his way downstairs, humming quietly as he disappeared from sight and towards the lab.

Coulson was touched by the love and concern in Steve's eyes as he watched Tony leave. It reassured him even more--not that he had needed the reminder, to be fair--that Steve was watching over Tony, and doing a damn good job at it. It was a relief.

"So, Phil," Steve said, interrupting his musing, "what was it you wanted to discuss with me?"

Coulson straightened his tie and let Steve lead him into his room. He actually chuckled as the realization hit him, and he shook his head.

"What are you two actually going to _do_ with this room now?" He asked, amused. Steve blushed and smiled, sitting on the bed. 

"Well, I was thinking an art studio, maybe," he confessed, gesturing to the easel and paints set up in the corner, "but if not, it might make a nice study. Tony could use another place to work on his gadgets."

"Oh, god," Coulson groaned, "don't give him this room, he'll have it a complete wreck in a week. You give him the lab and nothing else, do you understand? Tony Stark accumulates trash, Steve. It's not worth it."

Steve couldn't help but smile, shaking his head. He huffed, looking at the spilled tubes of paint, pencils on the floor, and crushed sticks of charcoal.

"To be fair," he defended Tony, "I'm not exactly neat with my art supplies."

"You haven't seen what he's like with clutter when he really gets into something, Steve." Coulson told him, shuddering at the memory of the time he had spent in a small California home with the man. "He'll bury us all if he's not careful. And he won't be. The only reason this house isn't a wreck is because he's only lived in his New York mansion for a month."

"I see," Steve said, clearly trying to hold back giggles, "well, I mean...we can be messy together. I mean...I would love to share my life with Tony...so we could share our messes, too?"

Coulson was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to hug him. 

He managed to control his instincts to cuddle him for being so damn unrealistically adorable in time to school his expression and sit down on the bed beside Steve. He sighed, beginning his explanation. He felt terrible about this...it was still lying, if only a lie of omission...but it would save them both. Coulson would do anything to save the both. They would not end up like his darlings. No one he took care of would ever be hurt again.

"From now on," he began, "I'm going to be overseeing Avengers paperwork. You don't send your files to Fury; you send them to me so I can look them over and I'll send them on myself. All right?" He said.

Steve blinked, eyes wide and muddled with confusion. The knife of guilt sank deeper into Coulson's chest.

"Why?" He asked. "Oh, Phil, that's a lot of work to take on for yourself! Please...let us help you. We can do our own paperwork, I promise to pester Tony until he does it, and I mean, maybe someone will have to explain triplicate to Thor, but we'll be all right...you do enough, Phil. Please don't force yourself to do this. We don't need you to do everything for us."

Coulson sighed, massaging his temples. He could feel a headache pounding between them, like the distant drums of war.

"Steve, please.. _.please_ trust me on this one," Coulson murmured, "just for a little while. This might just be temporary. I mean, even I can't handle this workload forever. But...for a little while, I need to oversee your paperwork."

"...All right..." Steve sighed; he didn't look too thrilled about it. Coulson wasn't too excited for it either, in all truth, but he knew he had to do it. It was either that, or Steve...or hell, Tony...

"Why, though?" Steve asked, tilting his head. He looked honestly confused and concerned; Phil's heart ached a little for causing the Captain such concern. He sighed, guilt weighing down his heart.

"...Well, Captain..." 

Phil realized then and there how hard it was to lie to the living embodiment of America. 

He sighed heavily and massaged his temples harder, moving his fingers in slow circles across the skin. Steve waited patiently for his answer, unassuming. Phil hated himself for lying to someone with eyes that innocent.

"You see, I'm the agent in charge of the Initiative," Coulson explained, "which means I ought to start acting like it. That means I have to oversee you a for a little while until you get used to how S.H.I.E.L.D. works. Once you do, you can submit your paperwork directly to Fury. It's all right. But for now, take the time to learn, all right?"

"...All right..." Steve nodded, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and looking at Coulson. "But if you need help, please ask Tony. He's a businessman. He knows how to file paperwork." 

"No he doesn't, Pepper does." Coulson replied. Steve laughed at that. Coulson laughed lightly with him. The two relaxed for a minute, before Steve stood up and stretched, grinning.

"I'm going to go check on Tony, all right?" Steve told him, grinning. "Why don't you keep an eye on Clint and Natasha before Clint demolishes the kitchen?"

"Steve, it's been ten minutes. We're probably too late." Coulson said, amused. Steve grinned wider at that, padding downstairs with Coulson by his side. The two split up near the kitchen; Steve down into the lab, and Coulson further into the kitchen.

Clint sat on the floor of Tony's kitchen, an open carton of ice cream in his lap. He ate from it freely, giant chunks of ice cream melting in his spoon. Natasha crouched beside him, amused, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"That's Tony's ice cream." Coulson chided him gently. Clint laughed.

"It's mine now." He announced cheerfully. Natasha kissed his cheek before looking up at Coulson.

"You told him, darling?" She asked. 

Coulson sighed and nodded, shaking his head.

"Yeah," he said, "yeah, I did. I lied to Captain America."

The two of them looked at each other.

Without a word, Clint offered up the carton of ice cream and his spoon to Coulson. 

With a heavy sigh, but a smile on his face, Coulson sat down beside them, taking bites from the carton every so often, more content to trade kisses with Clint and Natasha to taste the cold creaminess mingled with the taste of their mouths. 


	61. The Search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony have a little talk. Thor looks for Loki. It does not go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony can be really stupid sometimes. On top of making Pepper cry, he just...doesn't get himself. He really sees no intrinsic value in who he is; he thinks he's only worth sex to Steve "sex is a type of cheese/chocolate dip right" Rogers. I mean, really.  
> Thor feels. So many Thor feels. So many Loki feels but honestly? More Thor feels! Because ow, baby.  
> Also, I figure I should mention this was, again, written and conceptualized before the Avengers. Yes I know Loki's an evil psychopathic fuck there. But, uh, he isn't here, because the events of that movie didn't happen? So he never bargained with Thanos and all.  
> Also, I feel like Loki wanted Midgard to own because he wanted something that was just his, not Thor's or Odin's. Tom Hiddleston said as much anyway, so there you are.

Steve made his way down into the lab, typing in the access code and stepping inside quietly, trying not to disturb Tony as he worked on repairs.

"Can the suit really be repaired?" He asked. Pepper sighed, getting up from where she sat to take a look at the suit while Tony welded. 

"I think so..." She murmured. "You were very good about ripping along the seams, and from there it's just a simple matter of re-welding. And...even if it wasn't salvageable...Tony's alive. That's what matters." She said. _"Right?"_

"Yes, of course!" Steve enthused, until he realized she wasn't addressing him. Then he fell silent, curious. His heart ached a little as he waited for a response.

Tony continued to weld the chestpiece back together for awhile, not speaking. His goggles gleamed, reflecting the light of the blowtorch back at him. Steve just sat beside him, looking up into the blank face of the Iron Man mask.

"...I guess." Tony finally said, his voice rough and quiet.

He went back to work without another word. Steve and Pepper just looked at each other. Guilt was clear in Steve's eyes. He had hurt Tony. And now...

"You did the right thing," Pepper said gently, and this time, Steve knew she was talking to him, "and you should be proud. Not many people would be able to do such a thing."

"Yeah, I know," Tony interrupted, "only I can really handle this suit."

Pepper looked back at him, overwhelming sadness in her eyes. Steve just bit his lip and closed his eyes, not speaking. 

"Oh, hell." She suddenly muttered, rubbing at her eyes. Steve put a gentle hand on her shoulder and guided her upstairs, murmuring into her ear, "I'll see to him."

She left them to handle it, making her way upstairs without another word. Steve would've sworn he heard a soft sob, however, but he didn't remark upon it.'

He turned back to Tony and made his way over to him, slow and gentle and considering. Tony watched him through the goggles. Steve's face was reflected back in them, an eerie glow lighting up his skin underneath the flame of the torch.

Very carefully, Steve took the blowtorch out of Tony's hands, turning it off. Then he took Tony into his arms, took off his goggles, picked him up off his workbench, and laid him down on the only cleared-off spot on the table.

Then, very slowly and gently, Steve dipped his head down and kissed Tony. 

He didn't put all his strength into either his kiss or his grip; he knew he would only injure his darling, which was the last thing he wanted to do. But he couldn't help his grip tightening and the sudden pounding in his heart as he kissed Tony, and his inexperience made it so very hard to control himself. He just wanted to hold Tony tight enough that he would never need any armor again.

Tony, to his credit, was already in ecstasy from the pleasure. He wanted Steve to get rougher. He wanted Steve to hold him so tight that he couldn't breathe, so tight that there was an imprint of the reactor upon Steve's chest, once all was said and done. He wanted nothing more than a reminder that his body was wanted—that _he_ was wanted, and Steve's warm, possessive kiss gave it to him. Tony moaned into the kiss shamelessly, opening his mouth for Steve to slip his tongue inside.

With a bit of hesitation, Steve did so, though it was clear he was nervous from the way his hands suddenly gripped Tony tighter. Tony moaned at that, though, and it was evident that he wasn't complaining. 

Steve began to play with Tony's tongue, soft, inquistive strokes that ran across both his tongue and the inside of his mouth. Tony let him explore for a little while, breathing through his nose carefully so as to not have to pull away and ruin the moment. Steve hummed, pleased, when he rubbed against the roof of Tony's mouth and Tony cried out, bucking up into his embrace. 

More than a little weak-kneed with pleasure, Tony managed to take initiative regardless, taking Steve's tongue and sucking on it lightly. From the way Steve jumped, Tony could've poked it with needles. Once he adjusted to the feeling of his tongue being sucked, however, Steve seemed more than content to run his hands up Tony's sides and stroke the soft skin beneath while Tony sucked and played with his tongue.

Finally, even Steve, with his advanced lung capacity, had to break away. Tony watched him carefully, his pupils blown and his eyes bright with lust. Any minute now, Steve would undress him. Any minute now, Steve would lube him up—or maybe not, Tony didn't care—and make him a sobbing puddle of want on his workbench, fucking him raw until he couldn't stand, completely lost in the feel of him. Any minute now, Tony would be validated.

Instead, Steve planted a gentle kiss to the center of the arc reactor and smiled.

"Oh, sweetheart," he reminded him, "I know you love Iron Man, and I do too, but it isn't you. And you need to remember you're more important to me, okay?" Steve stroked his hair and smiled. "Like I said before—I can't kiss Iron Man like that, now can I?" He teased.

Tony laughed despite the sudden sharp stab to his gut that he had just took. 

"Yeah, I...I guess." He murmured. Steve smiled, pleased, and nuzzled his neck.

"See? You're learning!" He told him, his tone warm and loving as he stroked Tony's cheek. "Oh, Tony. I know you...you want...you know...but we're not ready. You know that too, right?"

Tony nodded, but he didn't say a word. He could lie easier with his body than with his words. Steve, unheeding, kissed his forehead.

"Until we are though, darling," he promised, "I'll make sure we kiss like that as often as you like." Steve grinned. "So long as we're not out in the field. I'd hate to have Fury yell at us for kissing, wouldn't you?"

Tony nuzzled closer against Steve and nodded despite the slow pulse of pain in his heart. 

"Yeah," he mumbled, "I would." He managed a smirk as he pecked Steve's cheek.

"Until then, though..." Tony murmured, grabbing Steve's shirt and pulling him down back on top of him, "I'd like to take you up on that "often as I like" proposition, Captain."

Steve smiled before Tony's lips claimed his.

"Of course," he murmured, "Mr. Stark."

...

Thor was careful as he made his way through the city. He was dressed as any normal Midgardian would be; jeans, a tee shirt, scuffed sneakers. He blended in, and that, for once, was a relief. Thor could not be interrupted or stopped or discovered. He was searching for something.

His brother was in this city. He had not spent much time here, certainly, but Loki's magic was powerful, and Thor knew it almost as intimately as Loki himself did. His brother commanded immense magical prowess, but with such power, there was, as is inevitable in such things, a drawback. Loki could not hide his spells; they were so intimately a part of him, so firmly entrenched in his conscious being that he could not hide his magic. At least, not to a fellow Asgardian. And certainly not his brother. _Never._

Thor's throat worked reflexively, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He could not help his panic for his brother. But he had to remain focused. If he could find his magic, maybe...if he could just keep it safe, and strong, then perhaps...he could find Loki. And then he would take his brother away—someplace safe, all the way back to Asgard if he had to, place him under his protection...keep him safe from harm and make a plan. Like he should have done before. Like he should have done from perhaps the very beginning.

Thor held his head high and did not shed even a single tear despite the quiet agonies that ripped through his heart. He was a king and a god. But by the Allfather, how he hurt.

He comforted himself with fantasies of the look on his brother's face when he saved him; the little teasing jabs at how long it had taken, perhaps. He would respond in kind about how long his brother's hair was getting, and perhaps he should look into shaving it all off. Loki would threaten to dye his as black as Huginn and Muginn. It would feel like they were brothers again. And above all else, Loki would be _safe._

Thor sighed and continued on his journey. To a god, the streets of New York were easy to traverse; he did not tire, and he could make it through fifty blocks in ten minutes at a brisk pace. He was distant, unfocused on anything but the feel of himself and pushing that feeling outward; if his own consciousness was to seek out Loki's magic, then he would have to focus on that instead of the people around him, or the sights of the city he was so sworn to protect.

Thor managed to make it through the four main boroughs of New York by the time his phone vibrated in his pocket—a text from Pepper, telling him dinner was ready. 

And he had found _nothing._

No sign of Loki. No sign of his fair-faced, raven-haired brother. No whisper of his soft, compelling voice in Thor's ear, telling him he had been there, his magic left as a reminder to anyone strong enough that might pass that this was where Loki had tread, no phantom feelings of a ghostly touch from a body that had resided in the spaces Thor had traversed. _Nothing._

It was as if Loki had never existed at all.

And for a man who loved him so dearly, who had once found inspiration and strength and reason in his brother's counsel and still found pleasure in his brother's simple existence, even after all that had happened—

Thor grieved. 

And it was not enough.

He made his way back to the mansion, thunderclouds booming in his wake, his eyes wild with desperation in sorrow. 

For a second, it was as if another man walked beside him, faded and wan, exhausted and worn down. He put his hand on Thor's shoulder, his skin flickering sapphire underneath the icy pale. 

Then, just as Thor looked up, it was gone, an illusion that had never been.

...

Pepper opened the door to greet Thor, only to then realize that might not be one of her better ideas.

Still, he was her Thor, whether she liked it or not; _her_ Norse god, which meant, well, dealing with...godly fury. Because Thor did not look happy. 

Hey, if she was going to date someone who turned into a green rage monster, she could sure as hell learn to deal with a pissed off god.

"Thor," she said, her voice neutral as she prayed to god Phil had heard her go get the door, "it's time for dinner. We're having hamburgers. Did you get my message?"

Thor stood on the doorstep for a second, his face inscrutable. Then he nodded, despite the growing twitch in his jaw.

"Aye," he growled, "I did. But _nothing_ from my brother. Nothing throughout this _entire city."_

Oh. Oh. Oh, god.

"Thor, sweetheart, please..." Pepper trailed off, realizing she had no god damned clue what she wanted to say to him, "I...I can't tell you if he's all _right_ , but you know where he is, at least. He's in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody. And as long as they know you're around and you could very well easily destroy them all, they _will not kill your brother._ I _promise._ Loki might be _hurt_ , but it's nothing you won't be able to _fix._ I promise. Oh, Thor, you'll be able to _fix him._ Build him up again if they break him. That's why you have a hammer, Thor. Please. Please just come in. It's going to be okay."

Thor was quiet for a moment as he did his best to process her speech. 

Then without further warning, Pepper had to take a few steps back, for she had ended up with a good three hundred pounds of muscle and god in her arms, sobbing disconsolately, his rage and grief evident in the way he gripped at her jacket. 

Pepper sighed and sank down to the floor as gracefully as she could, letting Thor have a moment. Hopefully, that would be enough to summon Phil. Coulson had more experience with this sort of thing, really. 

Thankfully, at least one of her prayers was answered—perhaps because she was actually hugging a god now—and Coulson stood in the hallway, observing the situation and shaking his head, stunned. 

"Don't ask," Pepper mouthed, "long story."

"I see." Coulson said, trying not to look amused and failing. Once he actually made it over to Thor's side, however, any amusement had fled him. The god's torment was obvious and true, and his despair was almost infectious in its depths.

"Thor," Coulson began, his voice gentle, "can you tell me what happened?"

" _I cannot_ _feel him_ ," Thor snarled, tears choking his voice and making his snarl less intimidating than he had probably hoped, "I cannot find my brother's magic anywhere within this wretched, Hel-damned city, and they have _taken my brother's body from me_ but they _shall not take his magic_! _I will have my Loki_! I will _not let him leave me!_ " He shook his head, tears still pouring down his cheeks.

"He cannot leave me. Not in this way. Loki's magic was always the part of him he truly loved. It was...happier than, perhaps, he ever was. I cannot let his _happiness_ —his _magic_ —I cannot...let it leave this place. _Please_." He whispered, his voice broken and hopeless.

"I...I'm sorry, Thor..." Coulson whispered, shaking his head and biting his lip, hating himself for being unable to offer much more than the most inane of platitudes, "I'm so sorry. There's nothing I can do. Loki will be all right. I promise. We'll get him back."

" _S.H.I.E.L.D. took him from me_!" Thor roared, making Phil jump and Pepper skitter back, the god suddenly getting to his feet and slamming a fist against the wall. "They _took my brother_ from me, and I do not doubt they took his _magic_ , too! Do you think me a _fool?_ My brother _is_ magic! It should be _everywhere_ around this city—this place was his _home,_ perhaps more than it ever was _mine,_ even, because _I,_ at least, always had _Asgard!_ And Loki—"

Thor cut himself off, realizing the sudden weight of his words.

"And Loki," he said, his voice heavy and soft, "had _nothing_. Loki _has_ nothing. Not...not even...not even _me_. Not any longer."

Thor's throat worked reflexively, tears coming to his eyes again. He shook his head.

"They took my brother from me," he repeated, "when he already had so little. And perhaps he was trying to take this place all for himself, but...did that truly merit this torture, when he has not put any of those plans into action or harmed any human thus far? To harm him in such a way..." Thor sighed. "I know you believe my brother a villain. Truly, he has done some ignoble things, and perpetrated unforgivable acts. But I love him nonetheless, and genuinely believe that if we could—if we could perhaps bring him here, assure him that he has a place, a home, a f-family—the things he thought himself denied, we could—"

"Thor," Coulson interrupted, "we can't go into S.H.I.E.L.D. and get him. Not yet."

"And why not, Son of Coul?" Thor demanded. "Because you truly believe him a villain? You do not know him as I do! You cannot! No one can! And I say to you now--I give you my word of honor as Prince of Asgard that my brother can be helped and, Allfather willing, healed! And we are _heroes_!" Thor cried. "Is this not what we do? Is this not what I came here for? To _save_?"

"No." Coulson said quietly. "We _avenge_. And you are right. What has been done to Loki is a wrong that needs to be avenged. But not yet."

"Why?" Thor pleaded. "Please, I...I am a god. I do not beg. But, my _brother_...my fair Loki...he is _hurting,_ Son of Coul, as they hurt your lovers, and...I cannot...I cannot bear the weight of my brother's pain upon me." He apologized. "I am sorry. But to know that I am not there to save my brother when he needs it the most is not something that I can carry with ease."

"I know, Thor," Coulson said, putting his hand on his shoulder, "I know. I'm sorry. But...for awhile, you have to carry that weight. Because there are a lot of wrongs we have to avenge, and avenging this one...might mean we don't get to avenge any others." He said. Thor shook his head.

"But why?" He asked. "Please. Answers. I demand _answers_."

"Because Steve Rogers is a good man," Coulson said, "the best one there is, in fact."

Both Thor and Pepper seemed surprised by his response. Coulson just sighed.

"Steve is team leader, and he would, at some point, find out if we just brought Loki back here—or even if we took him somewhere else, because after all, it's part of his role to know what's going on. Do you honestly think Steve would condone what S.H.I.E.L.D. has done to your brother? Do you think he would just stand by and let it go unavenged? He's the first of us, damn it, and the _best_!" Coulson yelled. "He will _not_ let your brother's pain pass by without incident! And _I can't let that happen!_ "

Thor continued to watch him, eyes wide. Pepper stood beside him, her eyes full of an aching understanding as Coulson continued to speak.

"Thor, listen. We can save Loki. And we _will_. But we don't know if we can save _Tony._ Not yet. And having Steve start a war with S.H.I.E.L.D. over something we can do as a team? That's not in the cards. I'm sorry, but...we have a plan." Coulson sighed. "And getting Steve to call out Fury on his treatment of Loki is not in that plan. Getting Steve to react to Fury's treatment of Tony, however, _is._ And we simply can't have both. So...Steve can't know about this. Steve can't find out about Loki, not yet. Once we've saved Tony, Thor. Please. Because we can't do both. Not yet."

Thor was quiet for a long time, considering.

His shieldbrothers, then. His strong, stalwart shieldbrothers—the men he would trust at his side in battle over any other. Brilliant, cunning, clever Tony, with his broken heart of gold and spine of iron. And Steven, the one man, pure of heart and true of spirit, that could keep Tony safe and love him the way Tony needed to be loved.

If he did not act on their behalf—if he did not keep his silence despite the pain of a brother he had known and loved for thousands of years weighing down his whole body—they would be lost. To each other, certainly. And perhaps to the rest of the world.

He was a god, with strength like no other.

Yes. He could carry this weight.

Because he knew they would do the same for him. 

It was, after all, why they were his shieldbrothers.

Thor smiled at that. It was a smile free of pain and free of any weight whatsover, except the heftless burden of love. And that was just fine by him.

"I will keep my silence, Son of Coul," he promised. "For my shieldbrothers. And for the team." 

The grief in his heart at the choice he had to make was alleiviated when he went into the dining room with Pepper and Coulson by his side, only to see Tony and Steve sitting side by side, Steve's hand strong as he cradled Tony close, his arm wrapped around his waist, Tony's bearing more relaxed and at ease than Thor had ever seen it.

It was a worthy sacrifice. And he was more certain of that in that moment than he ever had been.

Thor clapped them both on the shoulders and laughed, bright and booming to force out any remaining sorrows, before sitting down and regaling the others with tales of his exploits on Asgard. If any of them picked up on the fact that all of them, without fail, featured Loki, they did not say it. They allowed Thor the chance to grieve the best he possibly could, in that regard.


	62. To Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve talks about his problems. Tony listens and heals a little too. Backstory out the ass, dudes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so someone asked me last chapter about the supposed unhealthy dynamics in this relationship, and I decided it was better to address it here and now rather than in a comment. So...buckle up?  
> Yeah, look; Tony DEFINITELY has more problems than Steve, though in this chapter you realize Steve's got some issues too. But Steve isn't confusing the desire to help Tony with wanting to fuck him. They're two totally separate instincts, both of which flare up at times--thing is, though, because Steve's not ready for sex and Tony's a neurotic mess, "help" comes first.  
> And it's been covered a few times in the fic--Steve is helping because he's seen glimpses of the man Tony can be without his problems, he knows he's worth it...and he wants him to be happy and safe. Verbatim from the fic;  
> (("Sometimes he won't need to be protected. Someday he'll be okay. He'll be whole and healed and happy." He looked at him. "Then what, Captain? Will you still want to be here? Are you just here to help him?"  
> "Phil, you misunderstand me." Steve murmured. "I'm here to help him now so we can both enjoy his happiness later. Together."))  
> That's Steve. He's here to help because he's Captain America and he never met something he didn't want to save. But he knows in the end Tony will be healed, and then they can just be happy together! That's really all Steve wants--for Tony to be happy, and when Tony's happy and healed, to share that happiness with him.  
> And yeah. I've gotten a few people asking about the drunk scene. While it can be totally interpreted badly, and it's a legitimate interpretation that TONY was trying to manipulate Steve, my intention was to make it seem more like a "make or break" moment. I will make this totally clear; Steve would have confessed anyway, but Tony set the pace and upped the stakes. Because the truth is, Tony COULDN'T wait. Not only is he impatient, but he sees it as a personal failure if he can't have Steve. Steve had to understand that, or risk dragging Tony down deeper into self-loathing.  
> Let me make two things clear; one. This is a very long fic. The plot point of the issues Tony has overtaking their love will be addressed, I promise. I have anticipated this and it will be addressed and dealt with. Two; in the end, Steve loves Tony. He loves him as the genius jerk with a heart of gold that he is, and he is okay with Tony's hang-ups and quirks--he just doesn't want him to be a neurotic wreck. There is a difference between "let me deal with my boyfriend's very real problems" and "let me just help this guy so he'll let me bone him." Steve's doing the first one. Tony IS a mess, and Steve KNOWS that, and he also knows that Tony will only really let a LOVER in, not a friend, and yes that frustrates him, but he would have been his lover anyway. He was just pushed into it faster than he would have liked--and no this won't be portrayed as a good thing. Give it some time; like I said, long fic. He doesn't approach the relationship with a "this is the only way and I don't really love him" attitude. Steve could have said no. He just didn't want to. He didn't want to say yes the way he did, that's true, but he knew it was the only way.  
> Now, on to what goes on in this actual chapter. Steve's backstory is finally fully revealed, and Tony helps HIM for once. Four for you, Tony!  
> Don't worry, by the way; if Steve's epiphany seems sudden, there's still more issues and problems for Steve to have. Please be patient, okay?  
> Trigger warnings for abuse and assault, by the way. Please skip over Steve's story if you can't read that sort of thing.

The night went on and, eventually, the others found themselves staking out claims to Tony's couches again. Tony would've snarked on something like how he would evidently need to go buy himself a few more beds, or how Clint, Natasha, and Coulson actually _had_ a house, but then he looked at his team, content and cozy on his couches and looking up at him, grinning as if they were really glad to just be in his presence, and he fell silent. 

He accepted the remote from Bruce and sat down in front of the pull-out couch, Steve joining him with a bowl piled high with ice cream. Tony hummed, pleased, taking a bite as he flipped through the channels and laid his head on Steve's shoulder, content. 

He tensed suddenly, however, realizing there was a tightness beneath Steve's skin. 

Tony didn't know how to describe it, really; a "tightness" seemed like the closest approximation he could manage, but, in truth, there was something more to it. Steve was...Steve was _worried._

Tony didn't know where the hell the sudden gift of empathy had come from, considering he had comfortably spent most of his life without even needing to know what the word _meant,_ but he could...feel something, something gut-wrenching and deep, and he knew that his lover was hurting over something. He didn't know what, though. The sudden vein of empathy he'd tapped into didn't run that deep.

But it ran true, and so he worried. He didn't want to pull Steve away from the group, though, because he suspected they were some form of comfort, and so he did what he could until he could get into bed with him. 

Tony hummed quietly, then, a soft soothing note only Steve would be able to pick up, his hearing so sharp and attuned to any sound Tony made, right down to the whirr of the reactor. He laid himself across Steve; not flagrantly, as if on display, but in pieces, a hand in his lap, his head on his shoulder, and so on. Just little pieces of him; simple reminders that Tony really was there and would stay with him.

Steve didn't remark upon the feeling of Tony in his lap, or the sound of Tony's soft humming, but there was a smile on his face until the others had fallen asleep, leaving the two of them alone, illuminated by the glow of the television.

They didn't talk, then; they got up in unison and made their way into Tony's bedroom, almost perfectly in sync as they undressed, redressing in pajamas and tumbling into bed together, finding the weight of each other's bodies like they had been born to meet and connect in such a way; it was a glorious display and seemingly effortless despite the power and strength it took, like a bird taking flight. 

The strength, however, came from within; Tony's desire to, for once, be the protector and defender, the knight in shining armor, and as he opened his mouth to speak he realized all at once, a waterfall of realization tumbling over him, that he was strong, stronger than he knew, and once you _know_ you're strong, well, the rest is easy.

"You're hurting," Tony told Steve. "Your skin is tight and I could _feel you_ , somewhere inside me, making me twist and turn and ache, and I...I don't know what to do, but if I caused it, can you tell me? I'll fix whatever I'm doing wrong, and that's a lot coming from me I'll have you know, because I don't fix myself for just anybody, but you—"

Steve smiled and kissed his forehead, cuddling Tony closer, the arc reactor hot against his heart, pulsing.

"Thank you for noticing, Tony," Steve said softly, "and you're...well, you're caught up in what's wrong with me right now...but I wouldn't say it's your fault, darling." He sighed. "I...I don't know if I should talk about it, though. I mean, you have enough on your plate, you don't need to listen to my problems, and—"

Tony sat up in bed and poked Steve's chest, doing his best to look authoritative and stern. The shock on Steve's face told him he had succeeded.

"Hey," he said, "hey, whoa. Let's get one thing straight, Steve." Tony told him. "I might be way more fucked up than pretty much everyone on this team, but guess what? That doesn't exclude you from having problems. And, as your lover, I appoint myself Chief Executive Officer of Dealing With Steve Roger's Personal Issues, because you've sure as hell gone and done the same thing for me, okay? So I don't care if you think I've got a lot weighing on my mind. You've taken a lot of the burden away already. I think I can handle some of yours. Hell, I want to. I _need_ to help you," Tony said, and at the repetition of his own plea, Steve stiffened, "and you're not going to tell me no, got it?" 

Steve didn't know what to say as he looked into Tony's eyes, bright and stern with his vow. He wouldn't go back on it, Steve knew. Whatever he said now, Tony would listen to him. Tony wouldn't judge him. Tony would love him with the same all-consuming passion that he loved Tony, and while Steve knew that, sure, to see it enacted and confirmed was a relief to a worry he hadn't known he had, and so he cried out softly and took Tony into his arms, burying his face into his neck and breathing heavily for awhile, adjusting to the reality of it all.

Tony waited for a little while beside him, threading his hands through Steve's hair as Steve shuddered and inhaled shakily on his lap, breathing in the scent of Tony and clinging to him like a lifeline.

He wasn't going to lie; it felt really, _really_ good to be the one protecting and defending Steve, for once. It made him think he might actually have a use.

Eventually, after a few minutes more of silence, Steve evidently thinking over what he wanted to say, he pulled away and laid down again, Tony curled up against him, looking into his eyes to read the emotions he could see flickering about so easily within as he listened to Steve's voice. Between the two of them, he would get the full story.

"...After the stock market crash...my father lost a lot of money," Steve murmured, "and he lost all of his hope along with it. The bills were piling up, and my medical care was so expensive, and he didn't have a job...and mom getting one as a nurse...well, back in my day, a woman working was almost unheard of. And a woman getting a job when her husband couldn't? To my father, it was like...like...he would've rather been dead." Steve sighed. "I mean, I don't know how mom even got the job—I think the doctors took pity on her because of me, and she was a trained nurse even if she was married...which would've normally been a deal-breaker. Anyways." Steve shrugged.

"Dad didn't take it well at all. And on top of mom having the job...well, honestly, it wasn't enough. I was...I was an expensive little kid, and the doctors told me I was marked for death anyway. He..." Steve swallowed, shaking his head. Tony buried his hands in Steve's hair and kissed his forehead, because the thought of his Steve dying before he could ever have the chance to love him filled him with an animal terror he hadn't felt since Obadiah had ripped the reactor out of him. Steve, soothed by his love, managed to continue, though his voice was trembling.

"Dad drank, a lot," Steve said softly, and Tony felt the reactor whirring insistently as his heart suddenly stopped, "and he...he took it out on mom. And...and...and me."

That suddenly threw the grey night he had just had so few days ago into sharp focus. Tony was shaking.

"I mean, not that it wasn't almost expected for husbands to do that," Steve said hastily, sounding like he had given someone these excuses before, or himself, "especially if their wife worked, that was like, especially in those times, pretty terrible, and me, well, I guess I was just a bad kid, I do get a bit grumpy when I'm hungry, so it might've been—discipline, I mean, maybe I—he was my _father_ —"

Tony outright snarled. Steve jumped, startled, as Tony sat up in bed again, his eyes wild. He debated shaking Steve by the shoulders before deciding he probably wouldn't have been able to move him. No matter. He had other things to do—namely, lecture him.

"Okay, whether or not it was "expected," that's already some pretty terrible retro bullshit, and your mom working might've been the only thing that kept you alive. That meant _you could be here._ You could have _me_. We could be _together._ So forgive me if I think your dad's a fucking prick for _beating your mother_ for the crime of having a goddamn _job_ to support her _sick fucking son_ , whose loss, even if only in _theory_ , fills me with a crippling, nameless dread." Tony snapped. Steve stared up at him, genuine confusion in his eyes. Tony sighed.

Evidently, Steve was a little more forward thinking than most people of his generation. But a father was a hard thing to break free of, regardless of how tolerant and forward-thinking you were. That was something Tony knew from experience...which was _exactly_  why he could help Steve. Right here and now, he would fix this.

"Second, Steve, shut the fuck up. You're literally the best man that is alive or will have ever _been_ alive or has _ever_ been alive on this miserable wretched hive of scum and villainy we call Earth, so how about you _never tell me_ you _deserved_ to be fucking _beaten_ again? That'd be _great._ Hey, guess what; I actually was a nasty little shithead when I was a kid, and even _I_ didn't deserve to be beaten, because _you don't hit your kids!_ Especially not when they're _sick and dying_!" Tony shouted. Steve flinched, but his eyes had gone cold.

"...Howard...Howard, did he..." He trailed off as Tony shook his head.

"No, not really. He was too drunk to raise his fist and aim the thing, usually. He settled for shredding my self esteem and emotional stability, crippling me with long-term mental health issues. It's more like he punched me in the brain with his mouth." Tony said. Steve couldn't help but chuckle lightly at his comment, but he looked horrified at himself for even doing that. Tony kissed the corner of his mouth to remind him it was fine. Steve hugged him tight to remind him that he had been a beautiful, wonderful, clever little boy, regardless of what he or Howard had thought.

"Okay, and finally? Your dad shouldn't have been coming home drunk. I don't care. He had a family to keep together. He—he had—" Tony's breath caught in his throat all of a sudden, "he had—he had a _wife,_ and a _son,_ and he should've—he should've _loved them_ , he should've _been there_ , it would've been _enough_ —"

"I bet it would've been, Tony," Steve said softly, and Tony knew he understood, "but the fact that _you_ love me, right now, means more to me than anything else in the world. Even that. So I'm all right."

Tony nodded numbly, nuzzling closer to Steve, his breath soft on his lover's skin.

"I just..." Steve sighed, continuing on, "now do you see why...why I couldn't...handle seeing you drunk? It _hurt,_ Tony. It hurt because to me, it means that you're going to get yourself _killed_. Maybe not literally, but _emotionally_ —you'll die in your heart and soul before your body catches up, and _I can't let that happen."_ Steve said firmly. "I _couldn't_ save my father, and I _didn't_ save Howard, but I can...I can save _you_. And I love _you_ more than anyone else in the world. Believe me, you're worth saving."

Tony didn't know what to say.

"Tell me more about your mother," he finally said, because he really did want to know more, for one, and because he still didn't know what to say to Steve's overwhelming love and devotion, "tell me all about her, and you, and everything."

So Steve did. 

He told him about the way his mother hid her bruises with makeup, makeup that further drained their income, but she had to buy, for fear that someone would find out and either take Steve from her or fire her from her job—the two things she couldn't let happen, not even if she had to fight all of heaven itself to make it so. 

He told Tony about the times where he would cry, because his body hurt all over and his stomach worst of all, because he was just so hungry and sick, his body trying to force food from his belly that wasn't there, and if he cried too loud he would wake his father and end up bleeding or beaten.

He told Tony about the times where he got so sick he couldn't move and he had to lay in bed, helpless, while his mother ate in the minefield that became the dining room at dinner, one wrong move earning her a crack across the face, and on one memorable occasion, the first hot meal they'd had in a week thrown right into her face. She had come into Steve's room, whimpering from the burns, and he had roused up the physical strength to pick the food off of her face and the emotional strength to force her to eat it, regardless, because he knew she had to eat. 

He told Tony about the times where his mother worked the night shift and Bucky would come sit with him, holding him close and promising that as soon as his own dad got a job, he would come and take Steve and Anita away, and maybe their parents would get married, because his father had always loved Anita, and then they would fantasize about being brothers and having adventures, knowing full well that they were just two scared kids who had locked themselves in Steve's room, hiding under the covers and praying they wouldn't be found.

Steve continued on, the words falling out like spurts of blood from the cartoid artery, a harsh, sharp gush that coated everything nearby; the time he had been drawing in his room and waiting for his mother to get home only to have his father storm in, throw him on the ground, and dump his beer on the paper only to set it on fire, Steve sobbing with terror as his bed began to catch as well, his father yelling something about how the least he could do as a drain on the family was make him dinner, forcing him to find enough water to boil food and put out the flame on his bed, fast. 

He had managed to save the mattress, but not the blanket, and there were two weeks of shivering and sobbing on the singed mattress ahead of him before Bucky and Anita managed to make enough money to buy another blanket. The fever he caught from the freezing nights, however, couldn't be fixed with any money, and so Bucky had stayed with him despite risking getting beaten himself, because he loved Steve more than anyone else and he didn't want him catching cold and being sick all alone.

When Bucky got the fever for his troubles, he laughed it off and said he'd be better in three days, reminding Steve he couldn't catch it again as Steve offered desperately to stay with him. It actually took Bucky a week—a week he spent working, despite the pains that wracked his body—but Steve never knew how to say "I told you so," never to Bucky, because he loved him too, and he understood why Bucky had made that sacrifice; he would've done the same.

And Steve made his own sacrifices, then, and he told Tony about those; he would sell his medicines for pencils and paper, and he would draw things to sell. Not much—people had little money—but even in the grey dreariness that he could only ever view the world as it had been during the Depression, people were starved for beauty, absolutely ravenous, and he made a dollar a day from all the people who passed him by and saw his sketches; more than Bucky brought home, and almost as much as his mother made. She had cried the first time he pressed a dollar into her trembling hand.

But skipping his medicines for those few days when he needed the initial money to pay for supplies made everything worse, and there were some days where he just couldn't drag himself out to sell his drawings for the first few weeks. 

Those were the days where Bucky sat out there for him, doing his best to help, and when he came in that night and dropped change into Steve's palm, Steve had held Bucky tight and split an apple with him—the last they had—because he didn't know how else to say thank you except by sharing something he loved with someone he loved.

Eventually, with his mother's gentle care, he had managed to continue selling, but he had to walk at least ten, twenty blocks a day, because if his father caught him too close to the house, selling his art, he would probably have been beaten to a pulp right on the sidewalk. It would've been the only thing besides his art that wasn't grey at that point.

Steve told Tony about his mother, and the way the years of beatings wore down on her; she always had a smile for Steve and Bucky, but the abuse wore lines into her face, like a man carving wood, and the hollowness in her eyes was one that Steve couldn't fill with his love, no matter how much of it he gave. No matter how much he tried to fill it, the constant abuse just drained it out, left it emptier than before.

But he told him then about the love in her, still, after all that; he told her about the way she defended him, a lioness with her head high and her teeth bared, her very presence Steve's shield; his father never hurt him when she was around, and never, even when she was gone, in places she might see. He told Tony about how she saved food for him, and Bucky, too, even though he wasn't her son by birth, because she had adopted him too, as far as she was concerned, and she knew full well he saved some of his food and money for the two of them, even though she pretended not to notice the crumpled dollar bills stuffed in her purse, or the oranges and slices of bread left on Steve's bedside table.

He told Tony about the way she taught him to draw, her hand moving with his along the paper as she taught him anatomy and perspective, proportion and shading, the way everything looked when the light touched it. He ate those lessons up because he loved her, and because whenever he drew her something, it made the hollowness in her eyes full, if only for a second, and he would watch her lock it away in her little mahogany jewelry box; the one thing she had for herself.

He told Tony everything; the tear-filled nights, the times he held his mother when she needed to simply break down and weep from the weight she carried, unable to shed the burden any more than a little, for Steve was fragile enough as it was, the days when the beatings became so vicious that she would crawl into his bed, bleeding, and hold him loosely, too pained to hold him tight, and how he would bandage her up, murmuring the things she had taught him about nursing and healing. 

He spoke of the years of fear and pain and the way his father drank and drank and lashed out and hit and hurt, and how sometimes, when he was wrenching Steve's arm and forcing him to his knees with pain, he would look into his eyes and cry; not because of the pain, but because all the warmth had fled his father, and the man who bought him pencils and winked at him, smiling, was not the man who was currently halfway through breaking his arm.

He finally came to the point where mercifully, his father died. His mother getting the telegram and sitting on the floor for hours, crying with sheer delight, tears flowing so freely Steve feared there would be a flood in the house. He told Tony about how she had danced with him, then, twirling him about the house to the sounds of a nonexistent jazz record, practically running down the road with Steve in tow to tell Bucky the good news. Anyone who saw the two of them then would have assumed them a grieving widow and son, going to seek solace from their grief; instead, as Steve knew, his mother threw herself into Bucky's arms, then his father's, and Steve and Bucky just looked at each other and grinned before taking her home, letting her get dressed up, and taking her to dinner, talking about how wonderful their lives would be from now on.

And they would've been, he told him, but his mother had needed more money, and the hospital was going under, and the war paid more than anything else, so his mother had signed up to be a nurse and kissed his forehead, promising her whole family—Steve, Bucky, and his father—that she would be back soon, with money and a new life for all of them.

She would have come back, Steve said firmly, but he couldn't keep waiting, and neither could Bucky. Part of the reason they had wanted to join was, in their foolish, teenage minds, that they had figured their efforts would end the war faster so she could come home and be with them. 

It did, Steve corrected himself with a chuckle, but he couldn't have possibly known that at the time. And by the time he was really changing things, he had no time to hunt down his mother and find her, and then—then _Bucky_ , and—

Tony cut him off at that point, giving him a tender, gentle kiss.

"No," he said gently, "enough, Steve. I know that part of the story. You don't need to relive it. Not for me. Not for anyone."

The relief he felt pouring off of Steve's body in waves made Tony squeeze him tighter, his whole body trembling.

He didn't know what to say. Where did he even _begin?_ How could he make any sense of what Steve had told him?

"So," he said, because evidently not knowing what to say wasn't a concept that he cared about much, "I guess we both suffered."

Steve laughed at that, nodding through the veil of tears that ran down his face.

"I guess we did," he agreed, "and yet, through all that, we held on. I wonder why?"

"...The chance to work for Nick Fury?" Tony offered, a smile tugging at his lips. Steve rolled his eyes and nudged him playfully, ruffling his hair.

"You held on for me," Steve said, his voice strong and warm, "you held on and you survived and you made yourself strong, a hero, so you could be with me. And you knew you were doing it, even when you didn't acknowledge it, even to yourself; you knew the whole time that you were dreaming of me and finding me someday. You knew my face and my name and almost everything about me."

"Evidently, I didn't know much about that last bit." Tony murmured quietly. Steve just kissed his forehead, continuing on, his silence warm and understanding, letting Tony relax.

"Tony, you have to understand; I did the same thing you did." Steve said, stroking Tony's hair. Tony was silent, letting him continue. 

"I held on and I survived and I made myself strong, a hero, so I could be with the person I loved. I didn't know I was doing it—not for you specifically, anyway, but I was doing it all to be stronger, better, for the person I knew would be waiting for me, one day, even if I didn't acknowledge it, even to myself, all the time. I knew the whole time that I was dreaming and building towards that dream, working towards the day where I would find you...but I didn't know you were you. I didn't know how beautiful you'd end up being. Or how smart. Or how very, very brave." Steve whispered. 

Tony clung to him, feeling very much like he was caught in a storm, and he understood then what Steve had meant when he said they were like a hurricane; all consuming and so fast that you couldn't even breathe until it was over. 

"It's because of _you_ that I'm here now, and everything I went through so I could get to this point...it was worth it. Because what happened..." Steve swallowed, biting his lip. "It...it...it was wrong. It...it was wrong. Right?"

He sounded so hesitant, so worried, so nervous he would be in the wrong; the past threatened to choke him, to keep him from seeing the truth, and Tony refused to let that happen. He kissed his forehead and hugged him tight.

"Yes, sweetheart," he murmured. "What your father did was wrong. No matter what justifications he gave himself, or society gave him...it was _wrong_. You're okay, Steve. You're just fine, and I'm here for you, I promise." Tony whispered. "After all, you do everything you can to protect me and watch over me. I figure I can do the same." 

Steve smiled, hugging Tony tight and stroking his hair. For a long while, they just sat there in silence. Tony didn't mind; Steve had a lot going on right now, and he needed to get his thoughts together.

Steve held his lover tight and considered the life he had led and the experiences he had been through to make it to this moment; to find his way into a soft, safe bed, with a beautiful, perfect lover in his arms.

He put aside the time he had been born into, and the lessons he had internalized, just considering his experiences and the pain they had caused him, the scars they had left on him and his mother both. He considered his father, and then he considered himself. 

It took a lot more courage than he could put into words, but with Tony in his arms, his words ringing in his ears, and his experiences laid bare and life all explained away, Steve could finally make the first hesitant step forward, and maybe, just maybe, force himself beyond this.

No, he _wasn't_ wrong, and he _wasn't_ bad, like his father had told him. He had just been through a lot—and this, right here and now, was what he had suffered it all for. It was all right. He wasn't wrong. He had just...suffered.

"Yeah, I think...I think I can accept it." Steve murmured, before he allowed himself a small smile. 

"I can accept my father hurt me and know it was wrong. I _will_ do that, because I'm _strong enough_ to do it, and I have the people I love to tell me what happened was wrong. It hurts...abuse _always_ hurts, and always _will_ , but I...I can _move on_ from it. I can live my life, because I've accepted it happened, and I'm going to do the best I can to distance myself from it." Steve whispered before he hugged Tony tight.

He could, yes. Tony...Tony _couldn't_ , and so—Steve knew what he had to say. If he could dispel some of Tony's demons as well tonight, one fell swoop of repression coming to light...it would be worth it.

So he kissed him, sat him on his lap, and cupped his cheek before he met Tony's gaze, and murmured very gently into his ear, "You, Tony, have never really _accepted_ that your father hurt you. You justify it, make excuses for it, whitewash it, don't let yourself see it for what it is, because that hurts too much. And I understand that pain." He promised, hugging Tony tight before sighing softly.

"To admit that your _father_...to admit that your father hurt you, the man who was supposed to protect and love you turning on you in such a way, seems like it's admitting that _you're_ flawed, somehow, because your father knows best, and if he hated you, belittled you, and bullied you...he had to have a reason." Steve murmured, his voice soft and sad. Tony closed his eyes, trying not to cry and failing miserably.

"He didn't have a reason, Tony," Steve whispered, lancing festering wounds long-hidden from all but the light of his love for Steve, so it seemed. "He was drunk and he was angry and he didn't love you as anything more than a creation or a toy for me to play with someday. That was all. You had nothing to do with that. You are my beautiful, brave, clever little Tony, and you always will be, and you always have been, even before I could tell you that." 

Tony closed his eyes in anticipation for what was to come. Steve did not disappoint him. 

"There's never been anything wrong with you. It was always your father, Tony, just like it was always mine." Steve promised him. "After all, think of it like this; would you blame me for being sick? Would you blame my family for being poor? Would those be excuses you would give me to justify why my father beat my mother and I?"

"No," Tony whispered, his voice soft and full of enough pain to make Steve flinch and cuddle him protectively, "no, I wouldn't blame you."

"Exactly," Steve said, his voice warm and soothing, "which means you can't blame yourself for being smarter than your father, and you can't blame yourself for not being wanted by him, and you can't blame yourself for your father's choices, and you can't justify being abused with _anything at all_ , because there's _no justification_ for a family not loving you like you need to be loved, and it's _not your fault_ if they don't. You're not at fault, Tony. You've done nothing wrong. Your existence is not cause for abuse. Your life does not justify it. You are Tony Stark, and that is enough to mean you don't deserve any abuse. That's always been enough, and that always will be." Steve kissed his forehead.

"And that means you have to stop punishing yourself in his place, you know." Steve said gently. "Do you understand? You didn't deserve Howard's abuse. You don't deseve your own." 

Steve swallowed, suddenly tense. He wondered, suddenly, if he was pushing his luck; if he was going too far now in what he was asking of Tony. Then he remembered that Tony had listened to his story, wept for him, and loved him more than anything. He trusted Tony to listen to him on this one. Tony was the best man he knew, after all.

"No more liquor, Tony. It's just another way for him to hurt you, even now. There is no justification for that. No reason. No cause." Steve said.

Tony laid in his arms for a long time. Steve let him lay there, his fingers on the reactor, making sure Tony was awake by counting the beats of his heart as the minutes passed. He knew this would take time to think over. He could wait. Tony had waited all his life for him; Steve didn't mind waiting a few minutes while Tony sorted himself out.

"I can't...can't stop just like that," Tony whispered, "but I won't let myself get drunk. Not anymore. Maybe a glass of wine or something for a little while until I adjust...but I won't get drunk again. I owe you that much." 

They laid there in silence for awhile longer.

"Funny," Tony finally said, "looks like the only person you had to be to make sure I stopped drinking was yourself."

Steve grinned at that, nuzzling Tony and hugging him tight, triumph and relief welling up in his heart, hot and strong.

"Well, truth be told..." Tony murmured suddenly, "you're the only person I've ever wanted with me anyway. So I guess that makes sense." He smiled and kissed Steve's forehead, chaste and gentle.

"Your existence doesn't need to be justified to me, Steve," he promised, "but I'll definitely celebrate it, if that works."

"Definitely," Steve whispered, suddenly feeling light enough to fly, taking Tony up into the stars with him, his burdens completely shed, his heart free of regret or pain or sorrow, "and I'm pretty sure I've been celebrating yours for a very long time."

Tony laughed at that, bringing Steve close to kiss him again, and from the way Tony's heart beat when Steve held him, he figured that Tony's heart had to have gotten a little lighter, as well. Not entirely free, not yet. But Steve had opened the cage and coaxed it a little closer, and he knew that soon, Tony would be flying free and heading right for his arms, where he would stay forever, at peace.

Steve fell asleep with the promise of eternity unspoken on his lips. Tony leaned down to kiss him and caught it on his own, and it was as good as if Steve had spoken it aloud. 

The two rested then, content.


	63. Back to Base

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is a dumb. Coulson is the best. Maria is getting married because you'll take my OTPs no one else ships and like them. Steve is the best boyfriend ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got a puppy! This has no bearing on the fic, but I got a puppy!  
> Anyways, in important things, Tony just...oh Tony. He wants people to know that he's tough and he can take things, but this is so dangerous for him, because he takes everything too far. TONYYY. TONYYY. TONY NO.  
> Sorry about the awkward ending; I had to split a big chunk of stuff into the middle to keep this from suddenly whamming you over the head with the new arc. Ease ya into it gently, basically.  
> And Maria. Maria, Maria, Maria, if I don't stop this'll turn into a West Side Story reference, Maria.   
> I ship Maria/Victoria REALLY HARD ok text it  
> Also, they're gonna have more shippy moments in AMaHTS, so! They've been dating for like...six years? JSYK. If you care. Please care, I am the only one that ships them, help me.  
> Oh and a minor Lokifeels. Sorry.

The next morning, the first person to wake up in the whole house was Coulson. He cracked open a single eye and grunted, annoyed at being roused, grabbing the source of the awakening and accepting the call before he woke Clint and Natasha, who were snuggled against him, tucked away warm and safe in his arms. 

He listened to what was being told to him without particularly processing it, his head falling to the side to rest on Clint's, but once he heard the click of the phone turning off in his ear, it came back to him. He sighed and massaged his temples.

"Darlings, get up," he murmured, "they need us back at base."

Clint and Natasha whined quietly, but their eyes were open and they shifted in his arms, wriggling about and waking up, the two of them eventually getting off the bed and waking up the others while Coulson got dressed and began breakfast.

Pepper yawned, stretched, and nudged Bruce lightly to wake him, the other man grumbling with annoyance as he cracked open a single eye. She kissed his forehead in apology before getting up off the couch.

"I'm going to go get Steve," she murmured, "be back in a bit."

"Tony's not going in today, is he?" Bruce asked, coherent enough to formulate the question even without coffee. Pepper sighed.

"God, I hope not," she said, "Steve will probably put a stop to that idea, anyway."

She made her way upstairs and down the hallway, knocking lightly on Tony's door. When she didn't get a response, she entered quietly, turning the lights on. She couldn't help but smile at the scene that was laid out in front of her; Tony was snuggled into Steve's chest, his arms wrapped protectively around Steve's body. Steve held Tony close, comfort and devotion obvious in the way he cradled him. 

She didn't want to wake them up. If she hadn't known it was Fury—if it had been a business meeting, a charity event, anything else—she would've let them stay as they were, because nothing seemed so perfect in that moment as the love they had for each other. 

But she had to, and as much as she hated herself for it for a second, she shook her head and shook Steve awake.

His big blue eyes opened slowly, blinking up at her blearily and yawning, confused. Pepper sighed and tried to smile.

"Hey," she said, "Fury needs us at base."

"I see," Steve mumbled, yawning wider. "I'll get dressed. Can you get Tony's medicines?"

The figure beside him stirred, and Steve jumped, startled, as Tony wriggled his way out of Steve's arms and sat up in bed.

"He needs us back at base this early? Jesus." Tony remarked, getting out of bed. Pepper's heart actually jumped at the soft snarl Steve made at his movement.

"No, darling, he does not." Steve said firmly, getting up and wrapping his arms around Tony's waist. "He needs _me_ back at base. You're to stay home and rest with JARVIS. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Oh, no," Tony said, shaking his head, "I'm not going to be the helpless little damsel here, Steve. I've had a day off to deal with some bruises. I'm fine." He actually smiled as he looked up at Steve. "You took good care of me, okay? Let me go out and do good for everyone else with it."

Steve inhaled softly, sharply, his heart lanced with sudden pain.

He wanted to pick Tony up and tuck him back in and sing him back to sleep, kissing him softly until his breathing slowed and he was at peace again. He wanted to keep Tony in bed, warm and safe, snuggled up under the covers, for as long as he could. He wanted Tony as far away from anything that could hurt him as possible.

But if he told Tony that now, then...after the suit, and what he had assumed of Steve's intentions...Steve wasn't sure if Tony would necessarily thank him for his efforts on that part. He didn't want Tony to think he was trying to control him. Steve wanted to love him and tend to him so he could stand on his own, not manipulate and tease him until he broke down and did whatever Steve wanted.

He would just have to watch over Tony at base today. And regardless of what Fury wanted, he would ensure that Tony didn't do anything dangerous for S.H.I.E.L.D. for the day—at least, not until he had reassured himself tonight of Tony's safety. And even then, he was going with Tony on whatever mission it was. 

Tony would never fight alone again. Steve had promised him that.

"...All right, my darling," Steve whispered, "but I think we'll hold off on missions until tomorrow, all right? I want to be certain all your wounds have healed."

"Sure, sure, fine." Tony promised, kissing his forehead. "Pep, go get me some coffee, okay?"

Pepper huffed and hugged him, but when she met Steve's eyes, worry and concern were clear in her gaze. She mouthed, "Please take care of him," and turned on her heel and left, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.

Steve got dressed and ready, gritting his teeth as he led Tony downstairs with a gentle hand on the small of his back, protective and loving, his gaze dull with worry as he sipped his morning coffee. He would bide his time until they got to base. Then, he would be watching over Tony best as he could, that much was for sure...

...

Coulson didn't look too thrilled when Tony got into the car and they started the drive to base, but he grit his teeth as Steve had and didn't say a word. The others surrounded him in the car, all of them around him; Tony seemed oblivious to the fact that they had formed a subtle shield around him, save for noticing Steve. He leaned against Steve with the wide, moon-eyed look of someone in love, and Steve just smiled, pleased, and stroked his hair. He would keep Tony safe. But he noticed the way the others had positioned themselves in the car, even if Tony didn't, and so he smiled at them and nodded, clearly grateful. 

They drove to the base easily enough; they were quiet the whole way, save for the sounds of the radio. No one was, in all truth, completely awake. Pepper sipped coffee as she drove, occasionally stealing quick glances back at Tony. She was as nervous as Steve was, but she was more used to seeing Tony in pain than him. She knew full well Tony would still go through with this...though at least, this time, there would be someone else there with him. Steve would keep him safe in the one way she couldn't.

She pulled into the S.H.I.E.L.D. base with the air of dropping children off for school. Admittedly, she was dropping off very broken and mentally disturbed adults to a 'school' run by Mephistopheles himself, but the metaphor stayed.

Pepper sighed and got out of the car with them, walking beside Phil and behind Tony, keeping her eyes on Tony's back. Every time his shirt rode up, she could see the hints of a bruise...and from the way Steve wrapped his arm around Tony, hesitant and tender, she knew that he knew saw it, too.

She didn't like this...not one bit. They were weak enough as it was under the machinations of Fury, and being actually physically weak wouldn't help. But to talk Tony out of doing something, well...

Pepper tried not to sigh, but Phil noticed the frustration and despair on her face. He put a hand on her shoulder, a steady comfort and a reminder both, as he guided them into the meeting room.

Thor walked behind all of them, just a little, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. He was searching for Loki, trapped somewhere within these walls. However, if he found anything, he did not speak of it.

They made their way into the meeting room quietly. Phil inclined his head in a nod of respect, his eyes blank and his expression unclear.

"Commander Hill." He said, his voice neutral. Maria sat at the meeting table, files in her hands. She met Coulson's gaze, pursing her lips.

"Agent Coulson," she replied, "welcome. You brought your team with you?"

"All of them." Coulson answered. Maria raised an eyebrow, but the unspoken question in her eyes was answered the second Tony sunk into one of the seats, putting his legs up on the table and taking out his phone.

"I see." She said, her voice careful, her eyebrows now somewhere near her hairline. Coulson tried not to smile, for once, amused by Tony's ridiculous antics. They seemed...forced, however, he noted, as he looked at the engineer, and he didn't like it. Something was...off.

"Director Fury will be here shortly," she said. "I advise you wake your team up a little, first."

"Clint, Bruce, coffee," Coulson said. "Take Thor with you." 

The two of them looked at each other and then at Thor before understanding dawned on their faces. They grabbed Thor and skedaddled, fleeing the room; Coulson half-expected dust clouds in their wake. 

Steve sat with his head high and his eyes bright, pointedly not looking at Tony. Coulson understood. He found it hard to look at Clint and Natasha in de-briefings when they were still nursing injuries from previous missions as well. Too many reminders. Too much he had to acknowledge about the life the three of them lived.

"Captain Rogers," Maria asked, keeping her tone light, almost conversational, "how is living with Stark? I've heard the horror stories from Coulson—every agent has—and I'm curious. Are you enjoying yourself?" 

Steve licked his lips nervously, but showed no sign of distress otherwise. He looked at Phil, though, and Phil winced at the sudden pain in Steve's eyes. Maria had made it sound like he gossiped about Tony regularly to everyone...damn her. He'd have to explain himself later.

"Tony is the best thing that's happened to me since I woke up." Steve said simply. Tony actually put down his phone and stared at him as Steve continued, "and Phil took care of him for that week and a half he needed it; I don't know what he would be gossiping about. Because being with Tony...well, it's the best thing that's happened to me...maybe ever." He managed a smile.

Phil could have kissed him. 

"So yes, I'm enjoying myself, Commander Hill." He said, never losing his polite, warm tone. "When is your wedding, by the way?"

Maria jerked back her hand like she had been burned. Coulson _definitely_ could have kissed Steve by that point. 

"We've agreed to wait until _she_ gets promoted." Maria said, her tone shifting a little. Steve simply shrugged.

"Don't wait too long," he advised, "because if you want a spring wedding, you're going to need to book soon; it's almost October. People will be booking halls already."

"Who the hell taught you about wedding planning?" Tony asked, giving him a look. Steve smiled.

"Natasha had a few novels," he said, "and I was curious. If the books are factual..."

"They aren't," Natasha herself piped up, amused, "but I wasn't aware that's what you were reading them for, Steve. Something in mind?" She teased. Steve blushed.

Maria raised an eyebrow with interest as the Captain flickered his gaze over to Tony, just for a second. Perhaps the Director was on to something...

In any case, she would make note of this.

She looked down at her hand and sighed. She hoped Victoria wouldn't be too annoyed if she left the ring at home for awhile. At least until everyone knew not to ask her about it.

Her musing was interrupted when Clint and Bruce came back with coffee. Thor trailed in behind them, a cup in his hands he barely seemed aware of, his mind somewhere else entirely. Maria raised an eyebrow, thinking.

Guilt still haunted her, at least a little, about what had transpired as of late. No, she did not pity Loki; he was an enemy of S.H.I.E.L.D., and he was incredibly dangerous. Director Fury—Nick—he had made the wise decision. She could only hope to make decisions as smart as that during her tenure as Director.

...But _Thor_. Thor was no enemy of S.H.I.E.L.D., and he was dangerous, sure, but he was on _their_ side. The side of Earth. And...those were the same sides, right? Except...well...

No, Thor wasn't an enemy of S.H.I.E.L.D., that was certain. But keeping his brother trapped might very well make him one. And she knew better than to do that. Even if she was not yet Director.


	64. Gone Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fury finally strikes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just the beginning of his machinations. And that's all I have to say about that.  
> Although, I think Maria's line about Coulson's loyalties is very telling, personally. She sees what happened to him as par for the course for every S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, and doesn't quite see why he snapped the way he did. Even she went through it--Victoria was taken from her for two weeks, despite not being a field agent normally--and so her attitude toward it is largely "well you're a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, what do you expect? Sure it hurts, but it happens to everyone, so get over it." She sees it as just the way things are and sees no reason to change it--and anyone who fights against it is surely either naive, foolish, softhearted, weak, or stupid.  
> I have a lot of Maria Hill feels.

As she watched the Avengers, Maria remained quiet, her lips pursed. She didn't know what to say to the god. But she knew full well that he had been out looking for his brother, and Director Fury would certainly approve if she nipped that matter in the bud immediately.

"Your brother is safe," she said, making Thor jump and regard her with wide eyes. "I checked on him this morning myself. We aren't _hurting_ him, Thor. That isn't what S.H.I.E.L.D. _does_." She explained.

Coulson looked like he didn't believe her, but Maria ignored that. His loyalty had never really been the same after the little incident with Nefaria.

"He's fine," she promised, though in truth she didn't know, "and if he has come to any harm, the medical staff have seen to it. We're simply keeping him in custody and evaluating him. It won't last forever. The end result might even be that he is released into your care. There is no point in keeping a powerful mage off the Avengers, now is there?" She shrugged. 

"I advise you let him be, however, and let us handle this," she said. "I know the Director, and he may be a lenient, understanding man, but not on matters of threats to universal security. And in all truth, Thor, that's exactly what your brother is. For the moment."

_Until we've broken him._

The unspoken addenendum hung in the air. Thor gripped Mjolnir, his eyes narrowed, sapphire-shaded stone that betrayed nothing. He bared his teeth for a moment, an animal display of fury and challenge.

Coulson shot him a look. Maria was impressed by how quickly Thor schooled his expression and nodded, murmuring some thanks she didn't quite catch. Perhaps the agent had trained them better than she thought.

Before she could compliment him on that, however, the Director strode into the room. Maria raised an eyebrow at the way Steve stiffened. Tony took his legs off the table and put his phone in his pocket. On top of that, while it was perhaps it was her imagination, she noticed him edging a little closer to Steve.

"Well," Nick began, "that takes care of that little issue. Good work, Hill." He paused and surveyed her.

"The Captain's right, you know," he said. "Spring can come faster than you think. That is, if you make it through winter."

"...Thank you, sir." Maria said quietly as Nick set his briefcase on the table, surveying them all. Steve looked up at him. Tony looked away, his shoulders hunched.

"Since the first issue I was going to bring up was covered neatly by Commander Hill, I'll move on to the next one." He opened up his briefcase and took out a few files. "Missions."

Everyone waited, quiet and tense. Fury handed Bruce his file first.

"Doctor," he said, "we need your intelligence out in Texas for a few days; there's been a meltdown at one of our gamma radiation centers. And we need the Hulk's strength to deal with any...incidents...that could arise from such an occasion."

"I volunteer as his handler." Pepper said immediately. Bruce began to sputter as if on cue, shaking his head.

"No," he said, "I'm going alone. If it's radiation, then I'm the only one it won't harm." 

"We have suits to protect people from the rays based off of your studies of the radiation, Doctor. And you _do_ need a handler for the mission. Protocol; it's a medium threat level mission, after all. Agent Potts, you'll go with him, then." Nick agreed. Pepper nodded, looking at Tony quickly. She knew he had Steve now, but she couldn't help but worry he might still need her...

He gave her a smile and a quick thumbs-up. That warmed her heart and made her smile with relief. 

The small square of shiny wrapper that he passed her under the table, however, made her kick him in the shin and give him a look.

She put it in her pocket anyway.

"Hawkeye, Widow, as the two Avengers with the most experience with hand to hand combat aside from Captain Rogers...I want you two to oversee recruit training for the day. You've worked hard the past few months; this is just a breather mission. Plus, Steve could benefit from seeing how others spar as well, to refine his technique. You'll go with them, Captain?" Nick asked. 

Steve flickered his gaze over to Tony. He just nodded, almost imperceptibly. Steve relaxed and smiled, nodding at the Director.

"Certainly, sir," he agreed, "if those are my orders."

The Director nodded, turning to Thor.

"Thor, I'm not sending you out for a mission today; instead, I ask that you accompany Commander Hill into the lab so that our technicians may analyze your hammer." Nick said. "We still haven't fully probed the secrets of it, and it may aid us in enhancing its power for the Avengers benefit."

Thor nodded, his expression still inscrutable.

"Aye," he agreed, "I will accompany the Lady Hill. Are we to depart now, then?"

"Not yet, not yet," Fury said, "I have to give Tony his mission."

The sudden change in Steve was such a complete 180 that everyone froze, unsure of what to do. Where he had been placid, sitting in his chair calmly not two seconds ago, he was now standing in front of Tony, his head held high, his eyes narrowed, and his shield in his hand, hiding Tony from the Director's view.

"Tony is still injured, sir," Steve said, his voice quiet and polite despite the fact that he stood in front of Tony as if he was shielding him from harm. "He and I agreed that he would be allowed to come to base for the briefing today, but...he isn't up for a mission, sir."

The Director looked at Steve, considering and careful. Even Coulson, Clint, and Natasha, who had dealt with the Director for longer than anyone, began to tremble, at least a little.

"I am your superior, Captain Rogers," Nick said. "And I am Stark's superior, as well. Where is your authority to manage his missions? Do you claim to speak for him?" 

Steve was shaking, if only a little. He looked at Tony. They met each other's eyes for a long, slow second, an unspoken conversation passing between them.

"I do, sir," Steve said, his throat tight as he forced the words out. "Tony is my...my _partner_ , sir. I put myself in charge of his care." 

There was silence in the room. Even the sounds of them breathing were like gunshots. 

"I see," Nick said, sitting down in his chair and tsking, "and I'm happy for you two, certainly, but...you ought to remember, Steve, that it was by the direct order of your superior that you two ever _had_ this chance in the first place." Nick folded his hands together and surveyed the Captain. To his credit, he did not leave Tony's side. 

"I...I know, sir." Steve said, his voice quiet. His hands trembled, but he did not lower his shield. "I _am_ grateful, sir. I know you are my superior, sir, and you manage missions. I am not asking you to rescind the mission entirely. Simply—"

"Simply _what_ , Captain? Put more innocent lives in _danger_ because the man who has the power to save them is a little banged up? You would put _innocent lives_ at risk for just _one man_?" Nick tsked. "Doesn't sound like you at all, Captain."

Steve looked like he was about to cry. The shield trembled.

"You took care of him, didn't you, Captain? You tended to his wounds. Can't you do it again if he gets roughed up on this next mission? He's got a suit of armor. Man can keep himself safe. But if he does get a few injuries, well; that's nothing you can't handle." His gaze changed as he looked at the man behind Steve. "Isn't that right, Tony?"

"You leave him out of this!" Steve shouted, before immediately flinching, as if he hadn't expected that outburst himself. 

Tony gripped the shield and lowered it so that he could meet the Director's eyes.

"Yeah, it is," Tony murmured, as Steve's heart tore in two at his answer, "he takes care of me. He's...he's _always_ taken care of me. Even before he got here."

"And you trust him to keep doing that?" Nick asked. He was mentally re-arranging a few pieces now. Steve wasn't sated enough to manipulate Tony as he wanted. He had to be re-assured that he could trust him, and that he would be lenient. He needed to think he had control here.

"Yes, I do," Tony said. "I would trust Steve with my life. Always."

Steve set his shield down and embraced Tony, entirely uncaring that they were still in the meeting room. The others knew. There was no point in hiding it. 

He couldn't say no. Not now. Not in the face of Tony's utter, absolute, trust in him laid bare. Tony trusted him with his _life._ Tony trusted him to take care of him. Tony—his sweet, perfect Tony, who had given his trust timidly and with hesitation to so few others only to have it betrayed almost every time— _trusted him._

He _could not_ ruin that trust. Not after so many others had. He would take care of Tony, like Tony trusted him to do. He would _protect Tony,_ like Tony trusted him to do. And he would keep Tony _safe._ Just like he trusted himself to do.

Steve nodded, almost imperceptibly. Nick picked up on it, however. He just smiled.

"I see." Nick said, interrupting Steve's internal monologue. As Steve pulled away, he added, "Well, then. This mission's a bit of a tougher one; you're going to Latveria to deal with Doom, so you'll need a handler. Coulson?"

"Sir." Coulson said. He looked ill. Steve wanted to break down in tears. 

"Today will be spent de-briefing. You'll leave tomorrow, instead." Nick looked up at Steve. "I'm here to _help_ you, Captain. Remember that."

Steve relaxed. Fury preened, internally rejoicing at the re-aligning of his plans. He would have to be a little bit more careful for awhile, however. Perhaps he could get Steve by himself and talk to him for a time. 

"But...the de-briefing might not take as long as planned, if Coulson is efficient, which he normally is." Nick leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "So why don't you go spar after that, Stark?"

Tony shrugged and nodded, but the delight in his eyes was clear. He left the room with Phil after that as the others split up to begin their missions, but there was a spring to his step, almost, and he smiled all the way to Phil's office.

Pepper grabbed Steve before he went down into the training room and pulled him into a tight hug.

"You did the best you could, Steve," she promised him, her voice thick with emotion, "and believe me, I'm grateful. Thank you, Captain. It isn't just Tony that thinks you can keep him safe."

Steve managed a smile for her, despite the fact that his heart ached. Pepper threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. As their eyes met, he knew she was aware of how much it hurt, regardless. 

She squeezed his hand and smoothed her skirt, buttoning her jacket as she headed in the opposite direction, down the hallway to where Bruce stood. He met Steve's eyes for a second.

"Take care of him, Cap." Bruce said. "After all, you're the leader."

"I will," Steve promised, and even after they had gone, he was mouthing to himself, "I will, I will..."


	65. Training Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson is not happy. Tony is not scared. Steve is not going to let him go unprotected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Phil. You try so hard.  
> Before I go any further, quick question; would holding the updates back a bit be easier for everyone? I've seen a lot of people just recently check in and tell me how they've just read the whole thing, and we're on sixty-five chapters now. So I mean, if doing an update, say, twice a week would be better, please let me know. I just don't want to drown people in updates!  
> Anyway, to the point. Steve is not happy. Not at all. But he knows Fury's his superior and he's a military man, so what is he to do? He just deals, the best he can, and gets angry when he knows it's safe. Steve is scary when he's angry.  
> Also, a bit more clearing up of the incident at the party, for those who needed further clarification! Now it sorta feels like I'm just hammering it in, haha, sorry, but this was written before I had to clarify what I did before. Oops, timing.

Coulson swore the entire way down the hallway, Tony walking by his side and pointedly trying to ignore the snarling ball of suited fury that was the agent beside him, waving his briefcase about as if it was a weapon. 

"I was going to handle the paperwork!" He snarled. "Damn it, _damn it,_ protocol states this mission needed to go through _me_ first, this—this is _bullshit_!"

"So, other than the fact that it's pretty obvious your third lover is your _job,_ question; even for _you_ , Phil, this seems a bit of an overreaction over paperwork...so, what gives?" Tony asked. Phil turned on him, snarling. Tony actually jumped a little.

"Your flippancy is as appreciated as ever, Stark, but in fact, I'm trying to save your sorry ass, so _shut the hell up_ and _walk with me_." Coulson spat. 

Tony fell in line beside him and hurried into his office without a word. Even he knew when it really, really wasn't a good time to needle Phil.

Coulson sank into his leather chair and sighed, burying his head in his hands and massaging his temples. Tony poured him a glass of Southern Comfort—he knew where Phil kept it, considering there were times when he decided he couldn't deal with Tony about halfway through a briefing and just drank right in front of him—and put it on his desk. Phil grabbed the bottle from him and drank what was left in it before sighing and putting it down.

"I need to restock," he muttered. "Between you and Clint, I'm going to end up as much of a drunk as you, Stark."

"I stopped drinking." Tony said. Coulson actually raised an eyebrow at that.

"...Steve?" He asked. He didn't know why he was asking. He knew the answer. Tony nodded, regardless.

"Yeah. Evidently, his dad smacked him and his mom around when he got tipsy. It's why he freaked out so bad at the party. So I promised him I wouldn't drink anymore. It makes him happy. Besides, who the fuck am I to hurt Captain America?" Tony asked. Coulson sighed.

"See, no offense—well, actually, I _hope_ you get angry at me, it'll only prove I'm _right_ —but you did exactly that back there. You put yourself in danger, and you made Steve confront Fury before we had all the pieces in place." Coulson sighed and opened his briefcase. "Listen to me, Stark, and let me be clear right now; you're not allowed to not go along with this. Do you understand? I will not hesitate to shoot you if you ruin this. Because it'll be a quicker death than the one Fury gives you. And if he does that, then Steve dies, too."

Tony had been so ready to protest that his lips were already shining with the pithy remark and refusal. At that, the words died quietly before they ever met the air. 

"For Steve." He said, and that was when Phil knew exactly where to lead this conversation.

"You see, Stark, Fury's got his eye on the good Captain," he began, "what with him being team leader and all. And I don't think the Director wants the team leader going against his orders. Which means that the orders of the Director and the Captain have to be in sync. But..." Coulson sighed. "Sometimes they're going to clash. Like back there. You can't invite that sort of thing, Tony. Not when Steve's biggest concern will always be you."

He couldn't tell him much more; not with the wiretaps and video cameras in his office. Tony was a genius; he would figure it out.

His face, in fact, flickered with that dark shadow he always got across his brow when he thought. Coulson recognized it from the time in California they had spent together. Tony was chewing his lip.

"...So if I don't listen to the Director...Steve gets hurt?" He ventured. Coulson shook his head.

"No, not exactly. Look...if Steve gives you an order...as the _leader_ , not your lover...He's the one with your best interests at heart. Remember that. And don't let anything else get in the way." Coulson told him.

Too close. Skating on thin ice. If Tony didn't understand that, he would choke him. 

Fortunately, comprehension dawned across the engineer's face, and Coulson sighed with relief. Tony grinned. 

"It's okay, Phil," he promised, "I know you're used to me not giving a shit about myself, and good, you should be, it's not going to change, but...Steve?" His eyes shone as his smile grew wider. "Anything for Steve. If this keeps him...in the clear...then all right."

Nothing more was said. Tony was clever, even if he was a pain in the ass.

Coulson mused, briefly, on how strange it was to see someone love another person with the entire fabric of their being, as was so obvious in the way Tony spoke of Steve, every time, and yet have such a callous disregard to themselves. It was like Tony didn't quite understand _he_ was what Steve loved.

He sighed. Oh, he'd deal with this later. When there weren't cameras. Or, perhaps, if he was lucky, Steve would get to him first.

Coulson took the file on the mission out and surveyed it. Tony watched him, his head tilted a little, curious. His curiosity—and his worry—only intensified when Coulson's face blanched.

"Fury expects you to do this by yourself? Is he _insane_?" Coulson snapped. "The _hell_ you are. I'll go to the armory, get myself something. Backup. I can't just be your handler on this mission."

"No, you're going to be," Tony said, and his voice was sharp and stern in a way Coulson had never heard it as he spoke, "because you've got Clint and Natasha to worry about, and everyone on this team knows they'd go to pieces if they lost you. You're going to stand back and let me wreck things in my _full body armor,_ because _I_ can protect myself. You can't. And you've got other people you need to protect, too."

"What, and _you don't?_ " Coulson snapped, his voice irritable. It wasn't just that he hated that maybe, just a little, Tony was right—Clint and Natasha would not survive his loss, and didn't Tony think he _knew that_?—but oh, no. Tony needed a kick up the ass, and he wasn't waiting on Steve to do it. 

"Oh, and don't tell me Steve's got a shield, Stark. Let's be real. You've got to protect him. Because he wouldn't survive if he lost _you_ , either. And maybe you're a little more well-protected than me, but you're not _invincible._ " Coulson reminded him. Tony growled, shrugging his shoulders and looking away. Coulson knew he had struck a nerve.

"Steve can take care of himself," Tony murmured, almost petulant in his utter and complete faith in his lover. "Steve's strong. Steve's clever. Steve doesn't need some fuck-up in a suit to take care of him."

Coulson groaned and looked at him, pinning him to his seat with a sharp glare.

"I know Steve doesn't need to be taken care of," Coulson reminded him, "but at least take care of yourself for him."

Tony fell completely silent. Coulson sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Tony, I'm going to tell you something I told Clint a very, very long time ago. Every injury you take onto yourself reflects back onto your partner. It may not be in the same way—your pain may be physical, theirs, psychological—but it will haunt _them_ as much as it haunts _you._ Maybe even _worse_." Coulson pointed at him, knowing that, for once, he had Tony's full and complete attention.

"So do me a favor and take care of yourself, Tony. If not for yourself, then for _Steve_. Because Steve might have a shield, but _he_ isn't invincible, either. And don't kid yourself; if you lose him, you're as good as gone, too." Coulson sat back in his chair—when had he begun to stand?—and steepled his fingers.

"So. This mission. I'll be upfront; I don't like it. I don't like where they're sending you—Latveria,  if you're curious—and I don't like what we've got to do. We'll need your stealth armor for this one; Fury wants to try to get blueprints of Doom's armor. Or at least some logistics of it." Coulson explained. Tony blinked.

"Doctor Doom, huh? Isn't he the Fantastic Four's gig, usually? What, is Reed not returning his calls again?" Tony asked. Coulson huffed. 

"He would be, but we've got reason to believe he caused an incident on international soil. That means he's our jurisdiction for a bit, which means Fury's going to take that chance to spy a little on the guy. We'll be going in and infiltrating the castle tomorrow. Have your stealth suit ready, Stark." Coulson told him. Tony nodded. He still looked like he had been pretty thoroughly cowed by Coulson's rant. Phil sighed.

"And, hey, some advice, from one man juggling rough missions to another," Coulson suggested, his voice surprisingly gentle, "go spend the night with Steve, okay? Make sure he knows you'll be coming back. And make sure he knows you'll keep yourself safe."

"...And if I _don't_ come back?" Tony asked. Coulson closed the file and looked up at him.

"You will." He said, as if there was no point to discussing the matter further. "Dismissed, Stark. I want you down in the training room, now."

Tony grumbled, making it a point to stalk away in the opposite direction of the training room, but as Phil stood in his doorway and tried not to smile with amusement, he turned around once he thought he'd gone, running full-tilt towards the training room, so fast he didn't even notice Phil standing in his door, smug.

...

The training room had no cameras or recording devices. There was, of course, ways to spy, if you knew how to observe through the secret windows, but few agents had that security clearance. Fury figured having recordings in any way of his top agents' fighting styles was a bad idea. 

And so, Steve, Clint, and Natasha, whenever the recruits were out of earshot, could speak freely, which was good, because Natasha was berating Steve literally every second they had to themselves.

"You mustn't let him go, Captain!" She hissed, giving him a sharp look. Even though her gaze was fierce, there was pain flickering behind it, and there was no way even she could hide it. Steve held up his hands in a gesture of surrender and sighed heavily. 

"Nat, there's nothing I can really do." Steve told her, inching away out of her range. "I want...I want more than anything to hold Tony close and never, ever let him out of my arms again...but he's an _Avenger_." Steve sighed, shaking his head.

"And because he's an Avenger, and other people need his help, I need to let him go out on missions sometimes, regardless of what I want," Steve said, "because he wants to be a hero, and I refuse to stop him." Steve shook his head. "Please, I know...I know Tony takes risks...but Phil will be there. I trust Phil. He'll keep Tony in line."

Natasha shook her head, biting her lip. Steve was beginning to get concerned; this wasn't just anger, now. Natasha would not get angry for something so simple. There was something there underneath her face, swirling down deep in her heart, smoky and sad...something that told him this lecture came from experience. He didn't like it.

"Your partner should not let you go on missions like this. You mustn't let Fury think he can do this, not at this stage! Tony must be protected—he must know he is safe and sound before he can truly risk himself, because otherwise—" Natasha was cut off as Clint put a gentle hand on her shoulder, massaging the skin. Steve looked away, allowing Natasha a minute to feel her genuine pain in private with her partner.

"Ssh, Nat. You're working yourself into a lather. Calm down. We'll fix this." Clint soothed her, kissing her cheek before turning and giving Steve a look. "So, then, what are you going to do, Captain? I know you don't plan on just leaving Tony. Not without a fight."

"No, I'm not, but...I also need him to know that I can be trusted." Steve said, sighing heavily. Clint raised an eyebrow, disbelieving. Steve did his best to explain, trying not to show his concern for the way Clint had started to look as well.

"If he already knows he can trust me to take care of him after a mission, I need to validate that trust." Steve sighed and met their eyes. "Remember when...the incident at the party happened?" 

The two of them nodded. They looked as sorrowful about it as he did. Steve sighed and gripped his shield for comfort.

"Well, there was a reason I didn't just let him walk away and fall into bed, or ignore him outright. It was because I know, because of how much I mean to Tony, that he wants this to happen all at once; because to him, if it _doesn't_ , it means nothing's going to happen at _all._ If I had rejected him that night...he would've never been with me. Because he would've thought when I said 'I can't be with you when you're like this,' that I was actually saying 'I never want to be with you, ever.'" Steve explained quietly, a shudder passing through his body at the thought of never being with Tony before he continued on.

"So this mission, to me, is like that incident; yes, I could refuse him, make Fury take him off the mission until he was fully healed up—but Tony would _not_ hear 'I want you off the mission to keep you safe.' Because Tony thinks if it isn't all on the table during the first round, well..." Steve sighed. 

"Then because of Tony's issues, he'll hear 'I want you off the mission because I think you're incompetent,' instead. And then he won't trust me. And then I won't get to see my brave, wonderful Tony act as the hero that he is. And if I lose his trust, well..." Steve bit his lip and shook his head.

"To me, Tony's trust is precious, and it doesn't seem like many people have treated it that way before I came along." Steve murmured, his voice soft, almost venomous with anger at imagined past lovers who had betrayed his darling. Clint sighed.

"I know, I know. Fury kinda put you in a tight spot there. I didn't like it." Clint agreed. "But, Steve, y'know what? You can show him you can be trusted by not letting him go on missions that are too dangerous for a whole group, let alone _one guy_!"

Steve shook his head. He looked so worn out and defeated that Clint debated backing off a little. But Steve was a good man—he might win this fight if he slogged it out. And Steve could take a bit of a beating, emotionally and physically. Tony couldn't. And Clint, much as he ragged on Tony, liked him, a lot; he would defend him.

"I know, Clint," Steve whispered, "I know, I know. You see it that way. Natasha sees it that way. Coulson, Pepper, and the other Avengers see it that way. But Tony doesn't. And it's _Tony's_ trust I have to nurture and keep safe." 

He sighed and started to explain again, feeling more and more worn out with every word that slipped past his lips. 

"Tony's already worried I'm going to stop him from being an Avenger due to the incident with his suit and what I did to protect him over it. It's an irrational fear, but I know part of his subconscious still dwells on that fear, and so my intent is to show him that not only am I proud of him being a hero, but that I'm going to let him do it on his own as well." Steve explained. Then he sighed, shrugging haplessly, before gripping the shield and gritting his teeth.

"In all truth, no, I _don't_ like the way he handles Iron Man, but I won't refuse him the chance to explore his options as a superhero further—like taking on missions for Fury. In the end, I would rather heal his broken sense of self than toss out the pieces and start anew , so to speak, especially since that might not _work_. Does that make sense?" He asked.

Clint sighed and nodded grudgingly. He and Natasha exchanged a look before they both met Steve's eyes again. 

"Yeah, I get it," he murmured, gripping his bow tight and biting his lip, "I know you want him to trust you, Steve, but..." Clint licked his lips, clearly nervous and distressed. If Steve hadn't been so worried about what the archer was going to say to him, he probably would've hugged the other man. 

"It shouldn't just be about taking care of him after the missions; it should be keeping him out of danger in the first place." Clint said, meeting his eyes. Steve was shocked to see tears in them.

Clint grit his teeth and closed his eyes, as if to block out the fact that he was yelling at Captain America, before snapping, "Tony could _die_ , Steve. What would you do then?"

Steve suddenly got very, very quiet. The recruits inched back in nervously, wide-eyed and watching rapt as Steve gripped his shield. The grip had become harsh, vicious, and choking. The shield vibrated a little at the pressure.

"Find whomever was responsible and beat them to death with my bare hands." Steve said quietly. 

Clint just nodded, like he'd been expecting that answer. Natasha watched him carefully, raising an eyebrow, awaiting further response. Steve was more than willing to give it to her.

Unaware Tony had crept in and now watched from the corner of the training room, Steve added, "Tony is the man I love more than _anything_ , and that means I'm going to protect him. He won't die—he _will_ stay safe, because I'll find some way to make it happen. But he's got to know I trust him to make the smart decisions for himself, without me running his life for him. If he knows I will always _take care_ of him, not _smother him_ —if he _trusts me_ to take care of him—then I'm all right."

Tony watched, openmouthed. He put a trembling hand over his mouth to cover it, the tears starting to run down his cheeks unaccounted. Steve, unseeing, (for surely he would have taken Tony into his arms and kissed all the tears away on the spot had he seen), continued on with a little smile, his eyes shining. 

"All I want is for Tony to know I can be relied on—not just to take care of him, but let him be strong on his own, when he needs and wants to be. Once that happens, we'll worry a little more about whether or not he should go on certain missions. But he needs to know I'll support him, stand by him, let him lead, and take care of him, first. Because _I love him_. Everything else can be worked out from there." Steve finished.

The entire training room was silent.

The recruits all looked at each other, unsure as to whether or not they should applaud or go get the flag from outside and present it to him; an offering to the star-spangled god.

Steve only realized Tony was there when he suddenly felt warm, strong arms wrap around his waist. He smiled, pleased, as he felt Tony's stubble against the back of his neck, Tony's lips moving against his skin as he murmured, "Steve?"

"I'm right here, Tony." Steve soothed him. "What's the matter?"

"Well, I'm not just gonna go into Latveria half-assed, and you are a master of hand-to-hand combat..." Tony grinned, pleased. "Do you think we could spar a little?"

"Only gently." Steve warned him, and Tony just rolled his eyes and nodded in agreement, kissing Steve's cheek as he crossed his fingers behind his back.


	66. The Parts I Don't Know or Understand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fight scenes and fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some of my favorite lines in it. And I think it's just an important chapter to read overall!  
> Fight scenes fight scenes everyone likes fight scenes  
> I have not written a fight scene in awhile in case that is not obvious  
> Please forgive me should I suck ass at fight scenes!  
> Anyways, yeah. Character development and junk. This should clear up concerns, if any remain; and also, I am amused that I had this written and planned even before those concerns were voiced. Go me. Hope you like!

The two men on the mat had everyone's attention, without a shadow of doubt. Sure, there were other training sessions going on, and people sparring around them, but they were the barren, far-flung moons, if that, to the center of the universe that was focused upon that mat. The two men _shone_ —the great Adonis, with his hair like gold and eyes like sapphires, a smile of pearls and a uniform that told them all exactly what he stood for, the star in the middle lighting up his whole ensemble to make him a god among men. 

The second man was more rough around the edges—not Adonis, perhaps, but Hades, maybe, rough and worn with a life spent flirting with death, overseeing it in a manner that makes any man's skin a cross to bear, the evidence of all this presented in the crown he wore of men's murdered hearts and souls upon his chest, glowing with their offerings to his coffers. His truest beauty was of rough-hewn onyx; harsh, almost jagged, and starkly defined, even more so when he stood by his Adonis' side and found himself warmed by the sun for what, if the look on his face when they were together was to be believed, was the first time in his life. The second man was handsome rather than beautiful, as the first was, but that was all right; it served them better, made them both shine so much better in the other's presence.

With such beauty on display in such a savage dance, it was no wonder they were the center of the universe. After all, to see two men who might have, in that moment, been gods come to walk the earth, if only for a little while, spar like lions; a traditional sort of brutality, ritualistic in nature and well-worn in practice, was much more of an interesting sight than anything else in the room.

So focused on the movement of their bodies were the others that they did not see, in fact, that the men were talking.

"I heard you," Tony whispered first, as he dodged an uppercut from Steve and kissed the knuckles of his skin, "I _heard you_ , I _listened,_ Steve—" He blocked a blow and grabbed Steve's fist, forcing him to the floor, watching eagerly as his lover got back up again, trying to sweep him. Tony jumped, landing lightly and grinning at him.

"Did you really, Tony?" Steve murmured, avoiding his chest, so fearful of harming the reactor. He went for Tony's arm instead, grabbing it and twisting it so that Tony had to buckle against his chest, looking for a moment more like a lover in a particularly complicated waltz than a sparring parnter. "If you heard all that...then...well, what do you have to say for yourself? If you listened to all that, surely there's something you'd like to tell me."

Tony sighed, lifting his knee up and shoving Steve off of him as he broke his hold, baring his teeth a little, almost in reflex more than anything. Then he knelt beside his lover to pin him, holding him there for as long as he could before Steve broke free again, the two of them trading quick jabs before Tony finally opened his mouth again.

"I still don't understand it," Tony began, ducking a blow before delivering one to Steve's solar plexus, "why you're doing all this, I mean, but let me justify myself first before we go mining my emotional insecurities yet again."

"Okay, Tony." Steve agreed, despite looking like he'd rather swallow nails than agree to not helping his love immediately. Tony chuckled at the look on his face before he sighed and massaged his temples, blocking a blow from Steve with his free hand.

He began, slowly, surely, worry in his eyes as he dodged and came close to Steve only to dart away again.

"I'm not doing this to scare you, Steve," Tony promised, "or make you worry." He sighed and ducked, darting around him to deliver a quick blow to his back. 

"I just want you to know that I'm not helpless—that I don't need to be saved all the time! I can take care of myself, seriously! You need to know that, so maybe...maybe you won't have to worry about me so much." Tony explained, his voice low and soft as Steve stopped in the sparring to grip his arms and hold him in place, their eyes locked. Tony swallowed. Steve stared at him, breathing heavily, biting his lip.

"I know you worry." Tony told him, his voice gentle as he stood on tiptoe and brushed his lips against Steve's forehead. "I'm trying to be strong so you know you don't have to." 

The two of them stood there together in silence for a minute. The others stopped to watch outright, gawking shamelessly; the gods had ceased their dance, and the stillness was even more intoxicating than their sparring. Still waters ran the deepest.

"Oh, honey." Steve sighed heavily and wrapped his arms around Tony's waist, putting his head on his chin. He didn't want to fight Tony anymore. He just wanted to hold him close and tight, so as to have their last moments together spent in unity, rather than in a constant fight.

"If you honestly think you're going to stop me from mother henning—which, as I should remind you, I've been waiting to do for my entire _life—_ you are sorely mistaken at best." Steve teased, pecking him on the forehead lightly and smiling against Tony's skin. 

Tony made to protest; Tony was thus immediately silenced with a kiss. Steve knew anything he said he would either regret immediately afterwards or it would be baldfaced lies he knew he was perpetrating—like, heaven forbid, that he didn't need to be watched over.

"Sweetheart, there's a time and place for being strong on your own. The truth is, Tony...I love you. I want to take care of you." Steve promised him, ruffling his hair and shrugging.

"And maybe sometimes...okay. Show off how tough you are." Steve coughed nervously, blushing a little and shifting from foot to foot. "It's...sexy."

Tony snorted and began to giggle, nuzzling Steve's neck and smiling against his skin. Steve huffed, blushing brighter.

"Oh my god _, please_ tell me someone was recording that," Tony said, his face splitting into a huge grin as he resisted the urge to cackle wickedly, teeth gleaming as he grinned up at Steve, the spitting image of the Cheshire Cat, "let the record show that Captain "Apple Pie" America not only knows what the word sexy _means_ , but _used it in conversation_."

"Tony, don't make me hit you again." Steve grumbled. Tony just grinned and nuzzled his cheek. Steve privately reflected on his lover's innocent, (not that he would ever admit to being innocent in any way), sweet trust in him; he truly believed that Tony wouldn't trust any other lover to not act on that threat. That meant he had done good. And he would continue to do so. He squeezed Tony tighter and continued on, love swelling up his throat and constricting his chest; it took all his fortitude to force the words free.

"I know you're strong, darling," Steve promised, "you survived for so long until I found you...and you're an Avenger. You're a hero. I know that, I respect that, I love that. You're _my_ hero, Tony. My knight in shining armor. But you don't need to be strong on your own just because you've got something to prove. If you do—well, it's not to me. I know the truth by now; that you are a great man, wonderful and strong and proud. But even someone as great as you has to let someone else hold him up on occasion."

Tony was quiet. Steve sighed and nuzzled him, kissing his neck and holding him close. He didn't know what else to tell Tony...but he would try. He had to try, at least. For him.

"There's a time and place to be strong on your own, okay, Tony?" Steve told him. "Sometimes, you really need to just let me help you. This is definitely one of those times. If...if you're going to go on a mission..." Steve swallowed. 

"I can't stop you," he continued, "nor would I want to. You've got responsibilities, and I'm proud that you take them so seriously. But please—please, if nothing else—remember for future reference that I'm here to protect you and love you. Don't fight me, Tony. Trust me. I'm working as hard as I can to prove myself worthy of that. And even if I haven't yet—well—maybe...you could take care of yourself?" Steve whispered. "Trust _yourself_ , at least? Please. I...I just want to see you safe. Take care of yourself, Tony, for the times when you can't let me do even that."

Tony was quiet for a long, slow minute. He closed his eyes and sighed, wrapping his arms around Steve's neck, pressing the reactor against his chest. Steve could feel their heartbeats pulsing in unison.

"You care so much," Tony whispered, "you've given all your love, and all you want is to keep me safe." 

Steve nodded vehemently, almost unconscious of doing so. Tony sighed.

"I'm telling you right now; you're not loving the right person." Tony said.

Steve made to protest; Steve was thus silenced with a look from Tony. He knew his lover was serious, now. Wrong, but serious. Steve had to hear him out before he could heal him.

"Listen to me, first, before you flip out; I listened to you." Tony said. He shrugged and shook his head, biting his lip before he continued on.

"You...oh, Steve. You're not in love with me, honey—you're in love with the _idea_ of me. I mean, you...you must be. Because you can't be in love with the real me. I mean..." Tony sighed. Steve was shaking as he held him. Tony pressed on, regardless.

"I mean, Steve...I don't think you know who the real me _is,_ to be totally honest. I...I'm a lot of things, but some of them...I don't even know whether I've _chosen_ to be that way myself, or had it _forced_ on me. I mean, if you knew the real me...you wouldn't love me. Not the way I really am. You can't." Tony murmured, distraught. "Steve, you can't—you're perfect. You keep telling me I'm perfect and brave and strong, and I just—that's not me. That _can't_ be me. So...you can't love me. Because I'm not any of those things."

Steve looked at him for a long minute.

Then he sighed and took Tony into his arms, closer still, and kissed the top of his forehead. He gripped Tony with strength in his touch, and a desire to hold him steady, but there was gentleness there as well—it was the same way Steve usually held his shield, in all truth.

"Tony, do you realize how much love you give me, darling?" Steve said. "You've trusted me implicitly from day one. You've listened to me, let me help you, allowed me to understand you—you let me hold the reactor, darling. Do you know what that _means_ to me? How _honored_ I feel?" Steve kissed his forehead.

"If you don't know how much you love me, well—I do. I can tell from all the things you do that you love me, Tony, with everything you have...and I know that scares you. I understand that kind of passion can be...well, a little scary, my love." Steve hugged him tight and kissed his forehead again, soothing and soft.

"But that means, Tony, that with all that love comes your honesty—the realest, rawest parts of you. Oh, darling," Steve sighed, a small smile on his face, "I do know the real you. You've given me your love so freely that, well...yes. I've seen all of you. I've seen you at your worst, and I've seen you at your best—your most loving and generous and beautiful. I can see all of you, because you love me, and you trust me, and you give me all of yourself so freely." Steve wrapped his arms around him and kissed him, slow and gentle.

He pulled away and whispered into Tony's ear, "Yes, love; I can see all of you. And I love you for it. I love every part of you, darling, because you've shown me all of you. And you know I see the parts of you that are a little rough—your sorrow, your frustrations, your mistakes, your issues...but you know what, Tony? You're already aware of those, and you're working to atone for your mistakes, heal your sorrows, soothe your frustrations, and confront your issues—and that makes you great. No one else needs to tell you about your flaws; enough people do, and you know about them. No one's ever told you how good and perfect and wonderful you are, I think—which is what you really need more than anything." Steve smiled. "So I will. I'll tell you every day in every way I can until you believe me. I love you, Tony— _all_ of you."

Tony stared up at him for a minute, his eyes wide. Steve knew he was going to lose it—he could tell, at this point. He signaled to Clint and Natasha that he was going to be gone for a little while. Pride was clear on their faces as they waved him out, clearly impressed. Steve couldn't help but huff, amused. Clearly, no one else could have dealt with Tony before he came along...

_Well..._ He smiled, pleased, a growl of possessiveness welling up in his throat as he wrapped his arm around Tony's back, his fingers squeezing soft, tanned skin.

_Good._ Let him be the only one to take care of Tony in this way, then. He was more than enough. And he would be glad to do it on his own.

Steve half-walked, half-carried Tony out to his car, taking him into his arms in the front seat and after pulling him close so he could have some privacy, let Tony hold him tight and cry out in his arms for a little while. After all, he understood why Tony had broken down in such a way. This was different than all the times Steve had promised him he had loved him; with those promises, they simply affirmed how perfect and wonderful Steve thought him, and to be truthful, Tony could never quite believe it. This, though...

This said Steve _knew_ he drank, and _knew_ how unstable he was emotionally, and what a self-absorbed trainwreck he could be, and how he was, with admittedly slow going, trying to fix himself, and he loved him. He loved him with all his flaws intact, and he loved him even more for trying to fix him, and he would love him if he somehow managed to acquire more flaws. Steve just loved him. That was terrifying. That was exhilirating. That was the best thing he could have ever have heard in his life.

"I love you," Tony repeated, helpless to say anything else as Steve drove him home, Tony still snuggled on his lap as Steve called Pepper and told him he was taking Tony home to prepare for the mission, "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, all of you, every little piece of you, even the parts I don't know or understand, I love you, Steve, I love you..."

Steve got him home and took him downstairs into his lab—the place he knew Tony really wanted to be. And any place Tony wanted to be was a place Steve was willing to go. 

"I know, Tony," Steve whispered, brushing a kiss against his cheek, "I feel the same way, darling. Why else do you think I'm going to be here forever, to be with you in every way?"

Tony nodded, too lovestruck to speak. Fortunately, Steve was accepting kisses as answers, for a little while. And those were the best answers Tony could give.


	67. Feel the Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson, Thor, Clint, and Natasha talk. Dreams are discussed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Dreaming becomes a plot point! Think of it like how Loki contacted the Other in the movie, only with the catch that the participants have to either be asleep or otherwise unconscious; there are ways to reach out if the user of the Dream-magic is contacting someone whose mind is someplace else at the time. Basically a lowering of mental barriers allows the Dream-Magician to seep in.  
> I'm so sorry about the late update! I've been very busy with schoolwork for my summer project...I'm really sorry.

"Should we go over there, or what?" Clint asked, shutting the lights off in the training room and sending the bedraggled recruits off to shower and rest. Natasha kept pace with him as he left the room, stalking the halls like a panther on the hunt, all rippling skin and muscle. The two of them didn't need to look where they were going; the way to Phil's office was a well-worn track in their minds.

"I don't think so," Natasha murmured, "since Pepper and Bruce are already on the way to Texas...it is simply Tony and Steve alone with JARVIS. This is a good thing. The Captain is worried for him. He grieves. And he is frightened. So allow him his peace."

"Okay, fair enough," Clint agreed, "then Thor, maybe? We should talk to him about...y'know. Maybe he felt something down in the labs."

"We should, probably...but I do not wish for Thor to be alone. Not in his current state." Natasha agreed. "However, we cannot get much done in the way of discussion." 

Clint raised an eyebrow. They let the unspoken go free and nodded in silent agreement, rounding the corner to make their way straight for Phil's office. 

They stopped. Tensed. Lips curled back and their hands found each others'. Someone was in their Coulson's room. An interloper.

Clint and Natasha moved in sleek unison, like two rivers at a fork becoming one, slipping into the office with their hands on their weapons.

"Clint! Nat!" Coulson looked genuinely delighted to see them both, getting up to greet them, kissing their cheeks. They both pulled back, eyes wide.

"Phil? We sensed something. Is there someone in here with you?" Natasha asked.

Her question was answered by a bearhug. She sighed into an incredibly well-muscled chest.

"Hello, Thor." She mumbled into the armor. Thor stroked her hair for a second before letting her go and smiling.

"Greetings, Natasha." He said, kissing her hand before guiding her into her normal chair. Clint plunked himself down onto his chair beside Phil before Thor could offer, grinning up at him as if he dared him to pick him up and put him back in anyway. Thor just rolled his eyes at hm.

"I wish to leave you three alone tonight, because if there is anything I have come to understand, it is the need to be with your lover in trying times," Thor explained, "but before you depart base...I have something I needed to share with the Son of Coul. It is just good luck you two came as well."

"Oh? Spill, then." Clint said, perking up a bit and crossing his legs in his chair. Thor sighed. The expression on his face made Clint wilt a little, concerned. He looked pained.

"I felt magic." Thor said simply. That made them all pause. Thor gripped Mjolnir in his hand; his fingers flexed across the handle, more gentle than harsh, as if he was cupping another's hand in his to promise them safety rather than trying to swing a hammer. He looked into the shimmering silver surface of the hammer's head. Whatever he saw there made him close his eyes before he continued.

"They took my hammer from me, but I did not protest. After all, it is to help—I do not blame your technicians for wishing to study Mjolnir...though I don't know what you think you shall find within it. Regardless," Thor continued on, "as they analyzed and took notes, I had the chance to walk around and observe, at least a little." He frowned. "The Lady Hill followed me around like a shadow. Is this a trait of all S.H.I.E.L.D. women, Natasha?"

"A little," Natasha couldn't help but chuckle, "yes, Thor. But...regardless." She tilted her head. "That is all?"

Thor blinked, observing her face. He saw there was something there—something he didn't quite understand. But whatever it was, it was nervous. 

He fell silent immediately.

"Certainly; I figured the Son of Coul ought to know they finished their analysis for the day. They are going to continue their studies, but I could have my hammer back for today, at least." Thor said. "Should I walk with you three to the car?"

"Certainly," Coulson said, "but I think we all need a bite to eat as well. Why don't we go get dinner before you head home, Thor?"

"...Agreed." Thor said, the look in his eyes making Coulson sigh in relief. He understood. 

The four of them left the office, Coulson signing off on the last of their paperwork and, in a rather uncharacteristic move, handing it to a pair of interns with orders to deliver to Fury. Just to make sure they complied, Clint shot an arrow at them.

When the other three glared at him, he huffed.

"If you didn't know that arrow was gonna miss, I don't wanna know you." He grumbled. "My aim is _way_ better than that, and you know it."

"Yes, we know, my love, but I don't trust you around interns." Natasha remarked. Clint puffed up indignantly, but before he could defend himself, Coulson had shepherded the entire group out the door and down the street, towards a small diner where they could talk freely.

...

Within ten minutes, they were all in a small, well-lit and cozy diner, mugs of coffee in their hands as they looked at each other over the table.

"I felt his magic," Thor finally blurted out, and from a table nearby, a few teenage girls sitting together began to giggle. "My fair Loki had been in that lab. That much I knew already—but it was _strong._..and I was not expecting it." He frowned.

"By now, though, the truth is...the magic should be gone," Thor murmured, "for even a mage of my brother's skill and strength does not leave such a powerful imprint as that for such a long time. Which means, wherever they have him...he can reach out in some way. Continue to fortify his magic..."

"Bruce said they had him locked in an anti-magic field, however!" Coulson protested quietly. They fell silent for a minute when the waitress came back; they ordered quickly and got back to their conversation. Thor shrugged.

"I...do not know, then, but it is clear that Loki has been reaching out in some way with magic. There is no way that the imprint I experienced could have been that powerful without fortification." Thor frowned and began to muse quietly. The others allowed him his moment to sink deep into thought, pulling all of his knowledge of magic to the forefront of his mind. 

"If they do not know my brother can Dream...it is a potent magic, but not one most Midgardians quite understand. Dreams are different than the kind of dreams you experience...but that works to our advantage, that you experience them. You are less likely to question or look too deeply into the machinations of them and how they work." Thor explained. Coulson raised an eyebrow.

"So you think Loki's bypassing the anti-magic barrier by using a different kind of magic—one S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't prepared for?" He asked. Thor nodded.

"Indeed. You anticipate physical manifestations of magic more than anything—with something so fantastic, I find most Midgardians have a hard time truly believing in it until they have seen it—and Dreaming is not physical. Loki is not using magic consciously, with spells or incantations...therefore, it is not being stopped by your barrier." Thor explained. Coulson raised an eyebrow.

"You ought to remember some of us do not only believe in, but _understand_ your magic, and be careful, Thor; if Fury can work it out..." He warned. Thor nodded, contrite.

"I am aware, Son of Coul. Please understand—I do not mean it as an insult to your race. In truth, not even I understand the depths of my people's magic. However, you were not expecting as clever a mage as my brother," and here Thor puffed up with pride, just a little, and the others _knew_ they should protest—remind Thor he was an enemy, and a dangerous one at that—but he just looked so heartbreakingly proud of his brother that they let it slide as he continued, "and that means his Dreaming could slip through."

"So, what is it, then?" Clint asked. "And, more to the point; can it help _us_ , or..."

"I hope so," Thor said gravely, "but I have my doubts. Especially since he cannot aid himself in any way...and due to the crisis with Anthony and Steven, we cannot aid him. Not yet."

"...Thor, if you..." Coulson trailed off as Thor shook his head vehemently.

"Nay, I saw the way Fury treated them today. He is a threat, and they are under seige. I will hold. My brother can be fixed. But I doubt, if Fury breaks him, that Anthony can. And Steven would pierce his heart on the pieces." Thor murmured.

They all fell silent for a minute.

"Dreaming," Thor continued on, as if he had said nothing, "is when a skilled mage pushes his or her subconscious outwards while sleeping, infecting the thoughts or dreams of those around them. It can do most anything; send portents, give instruction, promise something forthcoming...it is all up to what the mage manipulates their subconscious into expressing. And that is why it does not register on the security, most likely. It is not physical; Loki is doing it without lifting a finger."

"I see." Coulson said, but before he could continue, the waitress came back with their food. They all ate ravenously, having not seen a meal all day; Thor was content to feast, for a time, and Phil didn't want to push him too hard. It wouldn't be fair. 

Once they had finished up and ordered their equally elaborate desserts, Coulson managed to add, "Thor, listen; if your brother is reaching out through those Dreams...find some way to listen, all right?"

"I shall," Thor agreed, "and I advise you keep yourself open to such matters, all of you. He knows of you. My team, my comrades—people who would help him for me. He will reach out to you, if he can."

"We'll be careful." Natasha agreed. "But, Phil...oh, don't worry about this! Not you, you just please be careful in Latveria, all right?" She shook her head. "I'm sorry. But _you_ don't need Loki on top of all of this. Please, please stay focused. You must come back alive."

"Both Tony and I will," Phil soothed her, stroking her hair, "and don't worry; if Loki comes to me, he will come to all of you, as well. I won't let it bother me." He sighed. "Thor? If you could..."

"I will watch over your beloveds while you are gone, Son of Coul." Thor said, and the warmth in his tone made Coulson relax. No one save him could keep Clint and Natasha safe better than a god with no qualms against defending them from S.H.I.E.L.D., if S.H.I.E.L.D. so chose to be their enemy.

"Thank you, Thor," Coulson murmured, grasping his shoulder and squeezing lightly, "shall we have dessert and head home, then?"

"I believe so," Thor agreed, "but...should we not check on Steven and Anthony?"

"I think it's best if we leave them alone. To...you know," Clint grinned, _"bond."_

Natasha slapped him lightly on the arm. Clint just kissed her cheek. 

"Hey, pretty lady, we'll do some bonding of our own tonight, don't get all huffy." He teased. 

That earned him a kick to the ankle. Clint pouted until his ice cream came out and both Coulson and Natasha fed him bites so that it was smeared tantalizingly over his lips. Thor just watched, utterly amused by Midgardian courtship rituals; no war tokens, no sparring matches to prove your strength...but they seemed to make out all right with it. 

He would have to try some of those techniques sometime. 

Briefly, he wondered if his brother even knew what ice cream was.

He shook his head. Loki would have plenty of time to learn of Midgard. And hopefully, learning about Midgard was the _only_ thing he would do...besides, perhaps, saving it.

But that was a pipe dream Thor was forced to dismiss. For the moment.


	68. Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony talk, as do the trio. Fluff is had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I apparently forgot how to update! I am just very busy as of late but August is going to be a lazy month, this should help.  
> Y'know, Natasha's little rant was written before...y'know, that happened. I just think it's appropriate, albeit sad.   
> Also next chapter has tons of Tony feels, just as a warning. Hope you like this one, too!

Coulson was a little nervous about dropping off Thor back at his S.H.I.E.L.D.-house for the night; after all, the place was no doubt bugged...and he wasn't sure if Thor would need to rage privately over Loki. From what he could gauge from Thor's expression, though...he figured the god would be all right.

Still, he reminded him before they left that if he needed to go for a walk, to keep his phone on him. Thor understood. Phil could glean that much.

The three of them drove home in silence. None of them knew how to voice the quiet worries that nagged at them. At least, not in the car. 

They made their way home in about ten minutes, safe and sound, and it was like the second they crossed over the threshold and into the house that all the words tumbled out, disjointed and pained from how they had been crammed into their minds for so long, unknown and unspoken.

_"Please_ don't die, Phil," Clint begged, "please, I can't— _we_ can't— _you_ can't, we _need you_ —" 

"Ssh, ssh, Clint, ssh," Coulson soothed him quietly, pulling him and Natasha into his arms and settling them in on the couch, kissing their foreheads, "darling, ssh. I promised you before that I'd always stay safe. I'll come back. I promise, promise, promise I'll come back. I love you both too much not to. I'm going to be just fine."

"But..." Natasha trailed off, nuzzling closer to him, closing her eyes. "Phil, please. I...I know you will be safe. But...I want to be there. I want to protect you. I would feel better if I was there beside you in that fight." She licked her lips and closed her eyes, pain marring her face. "I...I am afraid."

"I'll have Tony, and you know he's a pain in the ass, but he's good at what he does, and I trust him to have my back." Coulson promised, kissing the top of her head. "Don't be scared for me, okay? We won't be long. A week at most. This is supposed to be a quick mission, anyway. I won't be in any danger."

"You _wouldn't_ be, normally," Natasha murmured, "but you and I both know Tony will be in more danger than he should be. And that will make you put yourself out there with him. That is why I worry, Phil. Because you are such a good man. And that can only hurt you."

"I know," Coulson replied, his voice soft. "I'm sorry, Natasha. But I don't regret that I'm a good man. No matter what S.H.I.E.L.D. does to me for it." He closed his eyes and kissed them both, deep and slow and more as a way to hold onto them than anything. 

"If I was not a good man," he murmured, "I never would have been your lover. I never would've gotten as close to you two as I did. I have no regrets about who I chose to be. Because that choice led me to the both of you. I'd give up _everything_ to have you both in my life."

"Including your life itself?" Clint snapped. "I mean, Phil—you—I know Tony's in danger, but..." He sighed. "You've got the whole _team_ to think of. Not just us. _Everyone_ needs you, Phil. Not as a lover, but as a defender, a protector; they don't know S.H.I.E.L.D., they can't save themselves. You...you gotta come back."

"Not if my team doesn't." Coulson said. The resignation in his voice made them both ache. "Not if even a single one of my team is lost. Because if I am going to protect you, I need to be willing to _die_ for you. And—"

"And sometimes that isn't _enough_ , Phil!" Natasha snapped. "And you need to know when to weigh the situation and decide if dying would serve a greater purpose or simply leave everyone else lost and alone!" 

The three of them sat on the couch for a few minutes after that. The silence hung heavy around them.

"...You know, less than a year ago...you would've never even considered that." Coulson said quietly. Natasha huffed.

"I found a man," she said, "a man who taught me that sometimes my life can, in fact, matter more than my death. He was a great teacher. He still is. But he needs to learn how to follow his own lessons."

They sat there in silence again. Coulson looked away. He would not let them see how much pain he was in. 

"I don't wanna argue anymore," Clint finally piped up, his voice soft and full of hurt. "I just want to go upstairs and cuddle and kiss. Please. I don't want you two angry." He blinked in the way they both recognized as his strategy to hold back tears. "I love you both a lot, and I trust Phil, and I know you do too, Nat, and I know we're _both_ scared...but...he's our protector. He won't die. So...don't worry, Nat. Please. Because it just makes you both sad and angry."

They both wrapped their arms around Clint and hugged him tight. Coulson kissed the top of his head and sighed.

"Darling, listen," he murmured, "Natasha is right. I won't sacrifice myself for anything pointless, and I'll do my best to keep myself safe for the team. But sometimes I have to protect just one of you. Because all of you...you're so much more vulnerable when you're alone. I'm not. Which means I have to work a little harder to keep you safe when you're on your own." He explained. Clint nodded.

"I get it..." He whispered. "Keep in touch, at least?"

"I'll do my best." Coulson promised, his voice warm as he kissed the top of Clint's head. Clint smiled. Then he looked up at Natasha, his smile fading a little.

"Are you still angry at Phil?" He asked. Natasha shook her head.

"I suppose I understand," she whispered, "and I am sorry if I got angry at you, my love. I did not mean to—I was frightened—"

"Ssh, ssh," Coulson gave her a quick, gentle kiss, "I understood, I'm not angry. I'll do my best to stay safe. For you and Clint. I'll come home. Just like you both did for me." He hugged them tight. "It won't be like your mission. I'll be safe. I promise."

"Okay." She whispered, her voice soft and helpless and so very, very frightened. Coulson held her closer and kissed her forehead.

"Why don't we go upstairs?" He suggested gently. "No more worrying. I don't want to spend my last day with you two for the week arguing and fussing."

The two of them took his hands and let him lead them up into their bedroom silently, settling them in on the bed and undressing them, his hands careful, steady, and supportive as he stroked their skin, silent promises of his skill and care—signs he would stay safe. He undressed himself, climbing into bed as they immediately put their hands on him, feeling him, bruising the skin on occasion, just hard enough to last for a week—a reminder, the only one they could give, that they were counting on him to come back alive.

He held them for the rest of the night, the three of them entwined, like a knot that would come undone if but one string was pulled away, and every time any of them cried out, underneath passion or pain or bliss would be a silent plea, simple and direct; _please come back. Please never stop giving us this. These moments are all we have._

With every touch, Phil showed he would obey. 

...

Tony willingly left the lab at ten. Steve raised an eyebrow, but he didn't say anything as Tony ran one last scan over the stealth armor, making sure it was up to speed, before shutting everything down and turning back to him.

"Anything you wanna tell me?" Tony asked. "Because I want you to say it here and now. Once we leave this lab, we're gonna go upstairs, eat something, snuggle on the couch, whatever—cutesy shit you appreciate because you're the only one who's ever given a fuck about dates or romance in my life or whatever. And that is _not_ going to be ruined. So...speak now or forever hold your peace." 

Steve watched him for a second. Then, with a possessive snarl that made Tony's entire spine shiver, Steve came closer to him. Tony made to back away on pure instinct, only to bump against his desk. He could feel his heart pounding, and for the first time in awhile, he was incredibly aware of the fact that _he_ was the one to be seduced in this relationship. Steve was being...really forward, actually, and god—god, he _loved it._ He hadn't had someone try to do this sort of thing in a long time. No one had thought him worth it.

Of course, this could just be something sweet and delicate. But then Steve probably wouldn't be leaning in so close that their noses were practically touching, pinning Tony to the desk with his gaze, their eyes meeting as Steve seemed to take in all the emotions tumbling within him and then some.

"You backed away," Steve remarked, "and yet normally, you're the first to initiate physical contact. You backed away this time, though—because this time, I'm trying to _protect_ you. To _shield_ you." He raised an eyebrow. "Interesting."

Tony swallowed. Steve put his hand on Tony's hip to hold him steady before he leaned in and kissed Tony's neck, biting gently at the skin. It was for an instant and nothing more, but it was enough to make Tony whimper. Steve just pulled away and met his eyes again.

"I understand you're not used to someone protecting you," Steve murmured, "but I need you to know that from now on, that's my goal. To keep you safe. To treat you right. To love you. And you have to work with me a little, Tony. Just take a step forward—I'll come to you, I'll catch you, and I won't let you fall. But I need you to come closer so I can reach you. Understood?"

Tony nodded, his entire body throbbing, his veins on fire, his eyes wide. Steve brushed a kiss against his forehead. 

"Okay, sweetheart. That's good." Steve said. "Now, the other thing I want to tell you is that you are a hero. You are _not_ , however, a martyr. I don't want you sacrificing yourself unnecessarily on this mission, Tony. Play it safe, be careful, and remember you've got me waiting for you to come back home, okay?"

"Okay," Tony whispered, nuzzling Steve weakly, his whole body trembling, "okay, I promise."

Steve kissed his forehead again as a reward. Tony moaned softly, his hands on Steve's shoulders, clinging to his lover like he was his anchor.

"Good, good..." He sighed. "One last thing. Please don't ever let Fury do these things to you again; I know he's our superior, but he isn't allowed to hurt you, not ever. Clear?"

Tony grinned and snuggled closer, nodding in agreement. Steve stroked his hair and nuzzled his neck, kissing and lapping at the skin before him.

"I took this mission 'cause _I_ wanted to, I promise," Tony murmured, "so don't worry. I'll stay safe, and I..." Tony swallowed. "I'll try to get used to you being there for me. Promise."

"I know you will." Steve said, his voice gentle and loving. "It's not going to be a hard thing to get used to...you'll like it, I promise. I'll watch over you. And I'll always love you."

Tony nodded, snuggling close. Steve held him tight. They remained that way, content, until Steve leaned in closer.

"I'd like to stay with you tonight," Steve whispered, "for the rest of the night, I mean. Don't leave my side, Tony. Please." He swallowed and shook his head. "Don't leave. We've...just started this relationship, and I...I'm so scared I'll lose you already."

Tony wrapped his arms tight around Steve and squeezed gently. Steve let Tony nuzzle him as he smiled, content and soothed by Tony's love.

"I'll never leave your side," Tony promised, "even if I'm gone. I'll find some way to be with you. Promise." He smiled and kissed Steve's forehead. "And I promise I'll stay safe. You're not getting rid of me now, soldier."

"I'd never want to." Steve promised in return, smiling so brightly Tony had to close his eyes when Steve pulled him into a kiss for fear of being blinded. 

The two made their way upstairs, hand in hand, issues resolved and hearts at peace. Just for tonight, they would stay happy. It would be pure and simple and they would be together. That was what mattered.

That was what Tony was fighting to come home to.


	69. He's Leaving Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony makes a good choice. Steve gives him a gift. There are a lot of feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry in advance for heartpunching. I put in fanservice to make up for what I put y'all through.

The rest of the night was spent peacefully. Steve held Tony in his free arm as he fried them up eggs and pancakes. Tony made coffee, laughing with amusement when Steve whimpered, trying to grasp at him when he slipped away out of his embrace. He made his way back into Steve's arms, snuggling and kissing him as Steve finished up their breakfast-dinner and set the plates down.

Before Tony could figure out what he was doing, Steve grinned quickly and knelt, picking Tony up in his arms and carrying him into the living room. Tony sputtered, wriggling in his grasp, but he was laughing and clinging to Steve for dear life as Steve held onto him, supporting him so he wouldn't fall. 

Steve knelt in front of the couch and put him down gently, love clear in the way he held him. Tony sighed, but he was still smiling when Steve kissed his forehead, standing up to head back into the kitchen to get their food. He hurried back as fast as he could without spilling anything, setting everything down in front of Tony before snuggling beside him on the couch and taking his plate. 

The television was turned on and so the two watched television in peace for awhile; nothing major. Steve tried to talk Tony into another episode of My Little Pony, but eventually they both settled on a showing of a Charlie Chaplin movie, which Steve actually recognized. Tony found that more amusing than he should have, a fact he did not voice to his boyfriend—he was smarter than that, certainly.

Once the movie ended, their plates cleaned, Steve looked at him.

"You need a shower?" He asked. Tony nodded. There was something in Steve's eyes he really liked. Steve leaned in close and kissed his forehead.

"I promised you I wouldn't leave you alone for the rest of the night." He crooned softly, setting Tony's skin on fire. Steve kissed his cheek. "You're all right with me...coming in?"

"Is that all you want?" Tony asked, a little hope creeping into his voice.. Steve swallowed and looked away.

"Tony, you _know_ we're not ready." He murmured. Tony sighed and nodded.

"Yes, I do, I know," he said, "but...I want to make you feel good, Steve. My body is all I can give you to make that happen—please?"

"No it _isn't_ , Tony!" Steve snapped. "You've given me so much more in such a short time—my motorcycle, a home—a new _life,_ Tony, just—an entirely new outlook, and...you've just...given me someone so beautiful and perfect to love...and it makes me so happy. I love you so much, Tony. You've given me the best person to give all my love to; that _has_ to count for something..."

"If you say so." Tony whispered, his voice pained. Steve wrapped his arms around Tony tight, nuzzling his neck. 

"Tony, I _know so_ ," Steve said gently, "you tell me every day, with everything you do for me. You are so beautiful, and—god, I'll make you see it, promise. And not just physically. Darling..." Steve sighed and kissed the top of his head. "You _shine_. You're my knight in shining armor, and you're so very brave and strong and generous...and I am so very, very lucky. You'll realize that."

Tony curled close. He didn't say anything for a little while. Steve understood. He just held him, stroking his hair and waiting.

"My father had me so that _you_ would have me, because _he_ couldn't have you," Tony muttered, "he gave me no choice in the matter; I was born to love you. He raised me on stories of you—broke me and mended me up with the hope of you. But..." Tony looked up at Steve.

"You know what? First time I saw you in the ice—the first time I saw you for _myself,_ as you were, my dad stripped away..." Tony swallowed. _"I_ made the choice to love you, Steve. And I've made so many terrible choices—so many decisions I've regretted—but _not that one_. That is the one choice I have _never,_ not for a single second, regretted." 

He took Steve's hand and laid his head on his broad shoulder.

"Thought you should know that." He murmured softly. 

Steve pulled him close and kissed him, deep and powerful and demanding, all consuming and possessive, so passionate that Tony was whimpering and quivering by the time Steve allowed him to pull away. Steve met his eyes and smiled.

"Just so you know you made the right choice." He teased. 

Tony smacked him lightly on the arm as the two dissolved into giggles, snuggling together on the couch.

Eventually, Steve picked Tony up off the couch and took him upstairs. Tony understood when Steve looked away as he undressed. He had no such qualms as Steve undressed, however, and took in every inch of Steve's body with a ravenous, all-consuming hunger. Steve just smiled, evidently unaware of Tony's eyes upon him as he opened the shower doors and turned it on.

Tony lay snuggled against Steve's broad chest as Steve washed him clean, scrubbing gently over the bruises and taking tender precautions around the reactor, washing his back and running over the bumps of his spine, gentle and slow. He stopped at Tony's stomach, unwilling to go further. Tony just sighed and lifted up his leg, letting Steve wash his thighs and calves. Steve gave him a gentle kiss as a reward once he deemed Tony properly washed off. He made to get out of the shower until Tony held out an arm, stopping him.

"Oh no," he breathed, "you, soldier, are gonna hold still and get clean."

Steve grinned as Tony grabbed another washcloth, his deft, clever hands skimming all over Steve's chest and back, scrubbing him with light, firm strokes. Tony skimmed below his stomach but, in accordance with Steve's wishes, skipped to his thighs, washing them quickly while trying to sneak glances up at his real prize without Steve noticing. He scrubbed right down to Steve's feet, coming back up and giving Steve a quick kiss once he deemed him properly scrubbed. 

"God, your body is a work of art, have I mentioned?" Tony remarked. "You're beautiful. You really are."

"So are you." Steve reminded him. Tony rolled his eyes, but when Steve pulled him into a kiss, he smiled. Steve counted that as progress.

He turned off the water and led Tony out of the shower, wrapping him up warm in a towel. Steve took Tony's hand gently as they made their way into the bedroom, drying off before tumbling into bed, still warm from the shower. They wrapped themselves up in their blankets, warm and content, and Steve pulled Tony close, cradling him to his chest.

"Darling," Steve murmured, "a few things before we go to bed, okay?"

"Okay." Tony nodded in agreement, snuggling close and looking up at him. Steve kissed his forehead.

"First," Steve whispered, "please stay safe. I love you. I want you to come home to me, darling, so we can have nights like this for the rest of our lives."

Tony nodded, smiling brightly at the thought. Steve nuzzled the top of his head, inhaling the soft scent of Tony's wet hair.

"Second," Steve whispered, reassured Tony had understood his first plea, "I want you to know that I'm waiting not just because I don't think we're ready, but because I want you to be _courted_ first. I want you to know I'm going to be a devoted, attentive partner before I act as your lover, first and foremost. I want you to be treated properly, courted with care, and to know that I'm taking care of you. Understood?"

Tony took longer to nod at that, and he didn't smile this time, but Steve knew that one would take time. So he kissed Tony's forehead and smiled for him.

"Third, darling," Steve cooed, "let me tell you the truth—believe me, I'm not waiting to make love to you for my _own_ benefit, here. Do you know how _beautiful_ you are, Tony? How much desire you spark in me?" He kissed Tony's neck and nipped lightly at the skin. "I _want_ you, Tony. Want you _desperately_. And _only_ you, forever. But not yet. That's all. When the time comes, however..." 

Tony was shaking, actual tears of want and desire in his eyes as Steve brought him into a deep kiss. He pulled away, panting, as Steve met his eyes. They were hazy and dark with desire and lust.

"When the time comes," Steve repeated, "you are going to know in every way and for as long as you live how much I love you and how beautiful I think you are. It isn't going to be sex, Tony. I am going to _make love_ to you, for the first time in your life. And you'll know then."

Tony outright moaned, helpless to do anything but cling to Steve and groan, need and want swelling up in him, hot and passionate.

Steve held him close and kissed him to sleep after that, every kiss a promise of the future to come. Tony, for once, was content with just that. After all, Steve's future was a very, very good one.

...

Steve awoke the next morning to a text from Fury. He didn't even have to check it to know what it was about. He bit his lip and looked away from his phone, only to see Tony looking at him, wide awake and with the briefcase on his lap.

"Darling," Tony murmured, "I'll be home as soon as I can. I promise."

He sealed his promise with a soft, sweet kiss. Steve ran his tongue over Tony's lips, deepening the kiss and holding him as close as he could for as long as he could, memorizing every part of Tony's body and the way it felt beneath him. 

"I know," Steve managed to whisper, because he had seen men go off to war—hadn't that been _him,_ so long ago, and hadn't he _lived,_ but _—Bucky_ —"I know, but, Tony, please—"

"I'll live. For you." Tony grinned. "After all, I'm leaving my heart right here, safe and sound, aren't I?"

Steve nodded, unable to say anything else. If he broke down, he knew Tony would, too, and they didn't both need to be crying.

"I left something on the lab table for you, Steve." Tony said. "Make sure Dummy and You don't destroy everything, okay?"

"Okay," Steve promised, "okay. I love you. I love you so, so much."

Tony gave him another quick kiss.

"Love you too." He murmured.

The two made their way downstairs without a word, hands entwined. Coulson was in the kitchen already, waiting for them both, looking like a man marked for execution. Steve put a hand on his shoulder—a small comfort, but it made Phil smile, however faintly.

"I'll keep him safe, Captain." Phil promised. Steve nodded. Coulson stood up and beckoned to Tony. 

Steve followed them both to the door, his footsteps soft and quiet. Tony gripped the briefcase tightly. 

Suddenly, just before Tony crossed the threshold, Steve shouted, "Wait!"

Tony and Coulson watched, confused, as Steve bolted down the stairs and to the lab, yanking something off the table. It was only when Steve came back up, less than a minute later, and shoved something into Tony's hands, that Tony actually gasped, staggering as if the shield that now lay in his hands and over his heart weighed far more than it really did.

"I can use the one you made me while you're away," Steve explained, "and...I'd feel better if you had this. It'll make sure I'm still there in some way to protect you."

"...S-St—" Tony cut himself off with a harsh, hiccuping sob, pulling Steve into a kiss, the shield pressed between them. Steve kissed him slow and deep before pulling away, Tony's eyes bright red and cheeks shining with free-flowing tears.

"Love you, Steve." Tony whispered. "Be back soon, okay?"

"I know, darling." Steve replied. "I'll be waiting."

Tony left the house with Coulson by his side, heading out to the car. Steve waved them off, smiling as hard as he could, waiting until he saw them turn the bend and disappear from sight to break down sobbing, sinking to the floor and keening with agony as the sun rose above him, dispassionate to his agonies, shining dully on his hair and catching it gold in the way that always took Tony's breath from him as he looked upon his lover.


	70. Urgency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets a gift. The duo are lonely. Steve takes care of his friends as best he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I am not good at this updating thing lately. I am so sorry. Hope this chapter makes up for it!  
> Yeah I figure Steve's lonely as hell. It was basically Bucky and that was it for him, back before the war, and he didn't know Peggy or Howard for long, so...he likes friends. He wants to make friends. And Clint and Natasha don't really do so hot without Phil's guidance and love. They've become too accustomed to it; too desiring of his presence and moral and emotional support. Not a bad thing, and if they were taken from S.H.I.E.L.D., it would allow them to heal much better, but for now it's only a weakness. You're welcome.  
> Steve's glasses, by the way, are basically a mini-computer/instant messenger. He can connect to Tony in a myriad of ways; the glasses refer his voice and transmit it to the armor's speakers, he can type a message out on his phone and have that relayed on the interface of the armor, or he can verbally ask the computer in the glasses to transcribe his voice and send it to Tony. It's a good way of keeping in contact.  
> Also, I goddamn love Victoria Hand, and she is a woefully underappreciated character. I will make you all love Victoria Hand so I'm not the lunatic with a chewing-gum shrine who talks to her eighty cats or whatever.

Eventually, Steve got up. He showered, trying not to think of how Tony's hands had been on him last night, making him feel alive and hot and so very, very complete with the man he loved in his arms. He dressed himself in a shirt of Tony's—a little tight on him, but Steve didn't particularly care—and brewed himself some coffee and toasted a bagel.

_"Steve? Are you...all right, sir_?" JARVIS ventured. Steve sighed, shaking his head and sipping his coffee. 

"No, JARVIS, but thank you," he murmured. "I just..." He sighed. "I'll go into S.H.I.E.L.D. with Thor, Clint, and Natasha today. See if they have need of me. But...I..." He swallowed. "JARVIS, I'm scared for Tony."

" _To be truthful, sir_?" JARVIS confessed. " _So am I."_

"I don't blame you..." Steve sighed, adding, "I'll just go in until I'm allowed to leave. I'll be back as soon as I can. We can watch a movie together, if you'd like?"

_"It would be nice,_ " JARVIS said, a note of warmth creeping into his synthesized voice, " _but before you go, Captain—Anthony left something for you down in the lab. Did you get it yet?"_

"No, I didn't—I was in a bit of a rush to grab my shield. I'll go get it now, sorry." Steve finished his coffee and hastily ate his bagel as he made his way down into the lab, humming a soft song until he stopped, realizing it was an AC/DC song Tony had sung for him in the lab. 

Steve sighed heavily and typed in the access code, the door opening with a soft hiss. He made his way over to the work table, humming tunelessly now, for fear of another song re-opening the still-raw wound on his heart. His fingers ran over stacks of papers and discarded tools until, with a soft hum of surprise, the tips of his fingers were pressed against a pair of sunglasses.

They were sleek and stylish and, as he tried them on, fit perfectly. For a second, nothing happened, and Steve stood there, feeling a little ridiculous for wearing sunglasses in the dim lab.

Then a small beep resounded in his ear and a message flashed across the right eye of the glasses.

" _Hi, babe. <3 Sup? Like the glasses?—T_"

"Oh my god!" Steve exclaimed, his eyes wide with wonder as he laughed, delighted. "Oh, my god! _Tony_? Tony, is that you?"

Another small beep.

_"Yeah, it's me. I made these last night in between working on the suit; they can take messages and calls. Just tell the glasses to start typing something if you can't talk out loud. We're on our way to Latveria now; you okay?"_

"Uh, fine—uh, computer, transcribe?" Steve asked. Instantly, his words were relayed on the left lens of the glasses. He gasped quietly, completely impressed, and he heard Tony's laugh in his ear, soft and warm and soothing. 

_"You can talk to me privately if you need to; use your phone. It's my model, so there's no S.H.I.E.L.D. bugs on it—I installed the app that will let you talk with the glasses if you type in messages._ " Tony paused. _"Steve? I love you a lot. I'll message you when I can. Keep the glasses close."_

" _I promise_ ," Steve typed back, " _and I love you too, with everything in me_."

A picture popped up on the right lens. Tony was smiling at him, his eyes shining. Steve was smiling helplessly as the communication ended and he stood in Tony's lab, his heart soothed and at peace for the first time since Fury had announced the mission.

...

He drove with Natasha, Clint, and Thor in peaceable silence; either they knew of Tony's plan, which was likely, or assumed Steve wore them as a kind of token, because they said nothing about the sunglasses. Steve hummed a soft lovesong Tony had played for him, completely at peace, and made it through the day without much incident. 

Tony, evidently busy, had not messaged him; the most dramatic moment of the day had been Maria's fiance, whom Steve had never met and found quite striking and terrifying in the same breath, considering she had announced her presence by storming into the S.H.I.E.L.D. offices and cussing out Clint for buying eight hundred dollars worth of cheetos. _Again._

Apparently, even Clint was cowed by her, making Natasha have to muffle laughs into her gloves throughout the entire training session with the interns. All any of them had to do was start in going, "And just _what_ do you need e _ight hundred dollars of cheese puffs_ for, Agent Barton, because _unless_ you are sacrificing them to some dark cheddar based god, I am going to sacrifice _you_!", and Clint would freak out and allow them to get a shot in. The very, _very_ beleaguered interns found this highly gratifying. 

Steve just found Victoria Hand to be one of the more interesting people in S.H.I.E.L.D. who did not wear a costume. Showy, soft pink streaks aside, there was ambition and determination behind those sweet, innocent square-rimmed glasses, and he thought she made a rather good match for Maria. Especially if it was a fight to the death between them and everyone else in the world.

He had other things to think about, however, and so the one woman who could make Clint shriek with fear that wasn't Natasha was pushed from his mind in favor of sneaking off to text Tony whenever possible. Nothing major, nothing that would distract him—just little hearts or quick messages of love and encouragement. Steve just wanted Tony to know he hadn't forgotten him.

He didn't get any response, but Steve didn't begrudge Tony this as he went about his day. They were probably in Latveria by now and that meant Tony couldn't respond. That was all right—the faster they got to Latveria and got in and out, the better.

Clint and Natasha seemed to share his sentiments; they looked lonely and lost without their Coulson, and as they went about their day, Steve could see glimpses of who they had been without their Coulson beside them, their humanizing anchor to normalcy and sanity. Clint didn't laugh or crack any jokes. Natasha looked right through him, her face gaunt and her eyes haunted. He didn't like it. A _day_ without Coulson made them like this?

...Surely JARVIS wouldn't mind if he invited a few others home to watch the movie...

Steve smiled, content with his idea. He had to wait a few more hours until it was finally put into action, however—when the team met back in the meeting room. It felt strange to have the paperwork there for them to fill out without Phil. They just scribbled their signatures and left it for someone else to grab. Clint and Natasha looked utterly desolate, shuffling through the hallways, searching intently despite blank eyes, as if they expected Coulson to just open one of the doors and sweep them both into his arms.

"...Clint? Nat? Thor?" Steve ventured, eager to rid them of those expressions as fast as possible; to see them that depressed actually caused him pain. "Um, since Pep and Tony are gone...JARVIS and I were gonna order pizza and watch a movie. You're welcome to join us...if you like?" He offered hesitantly. He hadn't had any friends save Bucky, really...was he doing this right?

The three of them looked at each other, and for a second, Steve flailed mentally, so worried he had said something wrong. 

Then Clint began to laugh, ruffling Steve's hair. His eyes were still sad and heavy, but there was a smile on his face, which Steve counted as something.

"Sure," he said, "I'll bring the cheetos. We _have_ goteight hundred dollars' worth, after all. See you in an hour, Cap?"

Steve smiled so brightly it lit up all their hearts. He nodded eagerly and left the room, bolting for home, probably going to break the good news to JARVIS, texting something on his phone. None of them knew he was breaking the good news to Tony, first, but they were happy for him nevertheless.

...

Steve drove home carefully, pulling up to the mansion and coming in, breaking the news to JARVIS immediately. He suspected Tony had thrown wild parties in the mansion with thousands of guests on shorter notice before, however, so he suspected JARVIS would find an hour's notice and only three guests a small kind of miracle. He looked up to the ceiling to address JARVIS, smiling hesitantly as he explained the news.

"Tony's fine, from what I can tell, and the others are coming over for pizza and a movie with us, okay?" Steve said. "Can you call the pizza place now? We should place the order; I just know it'll have to be big."

_"I can assume as much, Captain_ ," JARVIS remarked, " _and I shall. Did anyone express movie preferences?"_

"Anything's fine..." Steve said. "I'm gonna go take a shower before they get here, okay?"

_"Understood, Captain. Enjoy your shower; I will place the usual order._ " JARVIS promised. Steve smiled, relieved, and headed upstairs and into Tony's room, disappearing through the door and stepping into the alien chrome-and-porcelain world that was Tony's bathroom; a stark contrast to his normal room. Steve just smiled and undressed, taking off the sunglasses and climbing into the shower.

He scrubbed off quickly, washing himself clean with Tony's washcloths and using a bit of Tony's cologne once he dried off—little rituals modified from the wartime ones, where if one Commando had left on a mission, they would take turns wearing a token they'd left behind.

After Bucky had died, Steve had always kept his spare jacket—his token—as a blanket. It kept out the cold and dried his tears when he needed it the most. 

Steve dismissed that memory from his head as fast as possible and toweled off, wrapping himself in one of Tony's robes, tying it shut and pulling on a pair of Tony's red silk pajama pants, which were incredibly comfortable, in all truth—he would try wearing them when Tony got back, even. See how he liked it.

Steve grinned, losing himself in that idea as he made his way downstairs. Before he could remember he had left the sunglasses sitting on the nightstand, the doorbell dinged, and JARVIS didn't even need to announce their presence, because Steve had flung the door open and hugged them all tight in seconds, so delighted with their presence that for a minute, he couldn't speak, content to just smile, eyes shining.

_"The pizza will be here in a few minutes, Captain; why don't you get everything set up?_ " JARVIS suggested.

Steve did so, and in fact, lost himself so deeply in preparing the couches and getting blankets and bustling from room to room, then upon the pizza's arrival, getting plates and napkins and making sure Thor didn't drink the whole bottle of soda or that Clint didn't neglect his dinner for cheetos, and then upon settling into the couch, enjoying himself and trying not to think about the warmth of the reactor against his chest that had deserted him, or the emptiness of the lack of another body beside him, filling in all his hollows and gaps, that as the night wound on, he found himself falling asleep as the others did, forgetting all about the sunglasses upstairs, beeping intently with urgent message.


	71. Messages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony isn't getting through. Steve is not thrilled. Doom!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony angst! Making him suffer is delicious. So, so delicious.  
> And Doom. Doom yelling about why Richards won't return his calls. Bless. Also! More Tony pain! And Steve pain! This is all awesome.  
> Steve kind of lost his shit, btw, because he's a soldier--he thinks Tony's seriously injured or on the brink of death, and what with Bucky and all...it triggered a bit of PTSD in him. So it might seem over the top near the end, but...y'know, give Steve some slack; he lost his friend to a situation like this, and promised Tony he would protect him. So...yeah. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

Tony's breathing was soft and slow as he padded throughout the halls of Doctor Doom's castle, the stealth armor leaving no sound behind as he made his way through crumbling stone hallways. About a hundred feet above him sat Agent Coulson, squirreled away in a hidden chamber of the castle intel said Doom checked about once in ten years. Tony wasn't concerned about him—he would be safe.

Steve, though. 

Tony swallowed, checking his datafeeds. No—nothing. It had been four hours since Steve's last message—another _I love you_ , but Tony treasured each one, saved them all to every one of his hard drives, just in case—and now, nothing. Steve had practically dropped off the face of the Earth...

Tony shivered and bit his lip within the suit. Where was Steve? Didn't he get his messages? He hoped so. He couldn't send many, but Steve's responses comforted him...

Maybe he was nagging too much. Sent too many responses for Steve to keep up—or maybe he'd sent one at a bad time and now Steve was angry at him—maybe this was all his fault. Maybe Steve was ignoring him because he'd fucked up again. 

Tony closed his eyes suddenly, tears threatening to escape as he clutched the shield for comfort. He felt so ill all of a sudden...

The reactor whirred insistently at him, his heartache evidently that noticeable, but Tony shrugged it off. He had things to do. 

He crept along the hallways for a little while longer, getting so very close to the dungeon. It was slow going—he was ever fearful of being caught, with Phil being too far away to help, to boot—but eventually, he made his way to the large, looming doors of Doctor Doom's private lab.

This place was where Doom kept the prints for his Doombots—a few of those and some work from him and S.H.I.E.L.D. would have a viable defense against the things. Tony grinned, pleased by the idea—working in the lab on such a complex piece of armor could be fun!

The image came to him unbidden; Steve perched on the lab table, watching him with adoration and amazement at his skill, his sketchbook in his hands, drawing Tony working the armor, his encouragement expressed in every scratch of pencil against paper. Steve's hand on his when the other man knew he needed to eat or relax from the grueling work. Steve's laugh as Tony cursed out a less-than-perfect piece of tech. And his _smile._..warmer than all the lights of the lab. 

Tony couldn't help but be lost in the fantasy, even if he had probably made Steve so angry he would never want to be with him in the lab again. He allowed himself a moment to dream and no more—but a moment was enough.

Tony heard the scraping of armor on the stairs and tensed immediately. It was a familiar sound; he had heard it before in his own suit...but never quite like that. The armor did not ring so hollow, so high, like the grind of an axe. 

_Doom._

Tony flattened himself against the wall, activating the camoflauge barriers around Steve's shield as well, praying to whatever god still cared about his miserable existence that the camoflauge would work against Doom's augmented eyes. He closed his eyes and waited as the grinding of the axe upon the floor got closer and closer...

Until, with the clank of armor still ringing throughout the hallway, Victor von Doom, one of the most dangerous men on the planet, passed him by without a second glance, disappearing into the lab.

Tony swallowed, trying not to sigh aloud with relief. He waited until he heard the clank of metal fists against a table and the sounds of Reed Richard's name ringing throughout the lab at the top of Doom's lungs to reconsider his options.

He had to get into the lab. Of that, there was no question—he did not tear himself away from his man to bolt halfway across the world for no good reason. If he and Steve were going to suffer the absence, Tony would at least have something to show for it. 

Tony reconsidered further, then. There was a passageway above the lab he could hide in until Doom left. But it was rather cramped, and in the armor, well...

Tony sighed. He had no choice. He would wait up there until Doom left. It wouldn't be long, and at least he could message Steve and hope Steve wouldn't be so angry he didn't respond...

That matter settled, Tony climbed up into the ceiling's secret overhang, crawling into the secret passageway. Thankfully, it had an opening in the stonework that allowed him to look through the lab while remaining unseen, especially in the stealth armor; he would be safe here.

Tony shivered, curling up in the armor. It wasn't a particularly large section of the passageway—he was forced to remain in that tightly-wound position as Doom moved about the lab, banging on tables and cursing Richards in between making adjustments and additions to the robots. Tony set the video feed in his mask to record that, giving himself something to do, at least, while he remained there in the dark, cold, cramped, and very, very hungry, trying to message Steve.

_"Hey babe. Miss you. Stuck here w/Doom. Guy keeps shouting about Reed. Gotta tell him the next time I see him. Nuts, huh? Love you. (Don't) wish you were here. Wish I was home instead. —T."_

Nothing. 

Ten minutes later, Tony tried again.

_"Steve? You okay? You get my message? I hope you're okay. Did Clint break your hands in training today? Do you even_ get _broken bones? I miss you. —T."_

Nothing. 

Ten minutes later, Tony tried again. 

_"Steve? Please message me back. You know how to work the message function, right? I hope so. Ask JARVIS if you gotta. He can help you. Miss you. Love you. —T."_

Nothing.

Tony decided to wait a little while. Maybe he was annoying Steve too much. He was just making it worse, then!

Tony settled in. For about an hour, he waited. Along the way, his muscles began to ache. His entire lower body ached soon enough, and the edges of the suit, so streamlined as to remain stealthy, cut into his skin—the underarmor wasn't built for the stealth, so he had been forced to go without more than an undershirt and briefs. He felt blood leaking into his suit, hot and wet.

He wanted to ask JARVIS if Steve was all right, or if Steve was angry at him...but Doom was still in his lab, even if it was at least two in the morning. Didn't psychotic dictators _ever_ sleep?

Tony would've laughed if not for the fact that the armor dug into his chest and made him bleed a little when he tried. He grit his teeth and ignored the pain, curling up tighter, making all his muscles shriek in agony. He was so hungry...he wanted a shower and a nice dinner Steve had cooked him...and then a nap...a nap would be wonderful, snuggled up in Steve's arms...

It had been about two hours. He tried another message.

_"Hey bb. Miss u. Msg me back. Need u. ilu. —T."_

He was too exhausted to send much else. His stomach hurt, unaccustomed to a lack of food after Steve's careful attendance to seeing Tony eat heathfully and daily. He wanted to sob; great, big, ugly dry-heaves, just from the pain of having the armor digging into his skin and his muscles aching. The pain from Steve's absence was too great for sobs; that was a heart-wounding pain that could not be purged with tears, and instead had to be left to fester until he was returned to his side.

Tony gripped the shield tight and held it against his suit, trying to let it comfort him. It wasn't much—in fact, it only pressed the suit harder against Tony's skin—but he didn't mind that. Anything to be close to Steve, if only a little.

An hour passed. Tony did not cry. Doom was still there. He had to wait. Had to wait. Steve. _Steve._ Steve Steve _Steve._ Hot wet hurt. Steve. Need. Somewhere. Steve. Steve?

Tony felt nauseous. His head was spinning, his muscles ached, and he was wet with blood and fluids—couldn't move, didn't dare take off the suit, blood and aching muscle and someone help, someone help him...

It had been five hours in this one position, in this one spot, in armor that bruised and cut him. He hadn't eaten in eighteen hours. He hadn't slept for twenty. He couldn't sleep; the armor shocked him when his eyes closed for longer than a minute.

The room had begun to spin. Blood loss was making him lose it, and fast. He hoped it wasn't enough to kill him. That was the last thing he needed.

Another hour had passed before Tony sent another message. 

_"luv u pls sry i md u angry love me pls sry sry <3 msg me need u hrt hrt hrt. bleedin. luv u. sry. bad boy. sry. pls. —T."_

He tried to fall asleep then, but the shock startled him awake. Tony sat there and awaited a message that would not come, something hot and salty stinging the cuts on his cheeks that he absolutely refused to acknowledge.

It was three in the morning in Latveria the next time Tony checked the clock, and eight in the morning back in America. Tony thought of what it would be like to wake up next to Steve before getting shocked again, realizing he had been closing his eyes as he dreamed of it.

...

Steve awoke the next morning and went to touch the sunglasses to turn them on and check Tony's messages.

It was then he realized there was nothing on his face.

Steve vaulted off the couch and bolted up the stairs so fast, screaming Tony's name, that by the time the others had awoke, blinking in confusion, he had shoved the sunglasses onto his face and frantically checked his messages.

The messages scrolled past him, becoming increasingly fractured and desperate as he went. They lost coherency as he went further, evidence of Tony spiraling downward due to either exhaustion, pain, or, god forbid, injury.

_"bad sry bad angry? no angry sry. hrt me ltr. talk to me now? help pls. hrt. help.—T."_

_"blood evrywhr an on me soft wet sry bad nauty bled evrywhr hit me? sry sry. hit me if u want u can i wouldn mind if u msged me too. luv u. luv u. sry bad naughty. —T."_

_"help help help help help"_

_"ithurtsithurtsithurts"_

_"steve"_

_"steve"_

_"steve"_

_"love u"_

_"steve steve steve..."_

_"sry. bad boy. sry. hlp pls. plsbleeding. help. help. hurt. luv u. sorry."_

Steve took off the sunglasses, hands shaking. He made his way to the bathroom very, very quietly, and knelt at the toilet. 

He was very loudly and thoroughly sick for a very long time.

Once he had wiped his mouth and washed his hands and mouth clean, he made his way out into the bedroom and put the sunglasses on. His hands were steady, but pale as bone.

After that, he screamed Tony's name so loudly that the windows rattled in the wall. 


	72. The Fix and the Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets the call. Coulson makes the save. Tony gets away from Doom...this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if after Steve's freakout, "darling" no longer looks like a word. Steve tends to use pet names more when he's worried or anxious over Tony in danger or something like that.  
> Tony is a dumb, the end. Also no, this is not the last you will see of VICTOR VON DOOM!  
> And hey, the return of Athena! I ended up liking her a whole lot, for reasons you'll see in the next few chapters.  
> Long chapter this time, by the way. And a whole lot of italics. Just to clarify; italics for more than a couple of words mean the person in question is on the phone-glasses. If they're the ones being perceived as "on the phone," anyway; like, in scenes where it's in Latveria and Steve's calling, his words will be italicized, not Tony's, and vice versa.  
> Bit of gore in this chapter--nothing major, just some blood--but just so you know!

_"TONY!"_

The sound of his name made Tony jump—thankfully, Doom did not seem to see him as he sprawled out beside the open passageway. Tony took a minute to recognize the sound in his sleep-deprived mind, but once he did, it took all his willpower not to scream with delight.

_"STEVE!"_

Steve sobbed with relief.

"Oh, yes, yes darling, I'm right here, darling, _darling._..my _darling_ , my _beautiful_ darling, oh god, oh _god_ , Tony, darling, _darling,_ please be alive _please_ , darling _please_ —"

_"I'm ok. Typing this. Sorry it's slow. Angry at me?"_

"JESUS, _NO!_ " Steve screamed. He couldn't help it—he was desperate, frightened, Tony could be _dying_ , and he'd just _ignored him_ , ignored his darling's cries for help—what the hell kind of lover _was_ he, oh god, oh _god_ —

_"Doom's gonna hear you. Ssh...I'm ok. Stuck. Hurting. Bleeding. Help?"_

"Then you're n _ot okay,_ darling!" Steve hissed, trying to keep his voice as quiet as he could. "I—I wasn't angry, not at _all_ , Tony, Tony, oh god, oh _god,_ my darling, my darling, my beautiful little _darling,_ please forgive me, didn't—wanted to keep you _safe,_ darling, I—I _failed_ , sorry, sorry—the others were over and I was down there and I left the glasses up here and I thought you were busy and I didn't want to disturb you, and—" Steve swallowed and steeled himself. "Nevermind that. What can I do to take care of you, my love?"

_"I understand, and it's ok. I am fine. I love you too. Forgive you. You were taking care of the others. Can you take care of me now, please?"_

_"Forever,"_ Steve snarled softly, love and pain making his voice a rough rasp, "forever and ever, _always,_ Tony, _Tony_ —"

_"Calm down, Steve. I'm ok. Just need you to do me a favor. Can you take a look at the map of Doom's lab I'm gonna send you and tell me how to throw the shield so it'll knock him out? If I get the patterns, I can leave, but I gotta get in there, and he isn't leaving."_

"Of course, my love, my darling—oh god, oh god, yes, fine I'm calm, _very_ calm, I love you, I love you..." Steve trailed off, tears running down his face as a small blip told him he was receiving a message.

The entire map of Doom's lab enamated from the left lens, and Steve took off the sunglasses to observe it carefully, calculating how Tony could best throw the shield from his marked position to get Doom in a way that would hurt him. It took him a minute, since he needed to calculate for added force, but eventually, Steve sent him angles.

_"Thanks, Steve. I love you. I'll message you as soon as I get the patterns and get the hell away from the castle. Ok? Keep the glasses close this time, huh? <3—T."_

"I always will from now on," Steve promised, "at least, when you're away, so I can keep you close."

Tony didn't respond, but Steve knew he was smiling. He lifted the sunglasses up on his forehead and collapsed against the bed, exhausted. 

God, he was going to have to do something really nice for Tony when he got back. Dinner and dancing, he figured. A few nice, slow dances, where he could hold Tony close. And then he'd rock him to sleep and stroke his hair and bandage up his wounds and bathe him and tend to him and love him and _never ever let him go on a god damn mission like this again for as long as he lived._

Steve growled quietly as he heard the others banging on the door. He wanted to be with Tony, but he understood their worry. Still, he had other concerns right now.

"I'm all right, and so is Tony," Steve said, "I just didn't check on him as often as I should have. You three go get breakfast—I'll join you in a second..."

They grumbled as if they were unsure if they should leave him, but eventually, the three footfalls began to fade away downstairs. Steve put the sunglasses on again and awaited Tony's response.

...

Tony's glee at Steve's response and reassurance was not enough to completely mask the shrieks of agony his muscles sent his way as he moved, crouching so he could drop down out of the hole in the passageway, but it was enough to keep him from crying out at the pain. Steve was _okay!_ And Steve wasn't angry! He was okay...

Tony smiled, pleased, already imagining all the things Steve would do for him once he got home. Maybe they could go out to dinner and dance a little. A few nice, slow dances, where Steve could hold him close. And then Steve would rock him to sleep and stroke his hair and bandage up his wounds and bathe him and tend to him and love him and _never ever let him go on a god damn mission like this again for as long as he lived._ Tony couldn't handle being this far away from Steve. Also, being cramped up there had hurt like hell.

Tony gripped the shield and calculated his angle. Had to do this perfectly...

Before Doom could notice, Tony had thrown the shield with the force of a repulsor blast behind it. It streaked across the room like a star-spangled meteor, and just as Doom looked up, it slammed right in between his eyes.

He dropped to the floor. Tony resisted the urge to cheer like he'd scored a touchdown. It was hard, but he managed.

Tony made his way down into the lab, grabbing the shield and holding it close as he ripped the tech-brain out of the closest Doombot's chest, grabbing all the files he could find, and going to bolt out, his jetboots humming.

Before he could, something grabbed his leg.

_"STARK!_ " Doom roared, his eyes wild as he clung to Tony's armor. "DO NOT THINK YOU WILL ESCAPE THE WRATH OF DOOM FOR SUCH AN OFFENSE!"

Tony grinned, one hand out, the other pressing the shield, tech, and files against his chestplate.

"Sorry," he said, "I've got someone waiting for me at home; it's kind of urgent. You'll just have to wait."

And with that, Doom got a repulsor blast to the face as Tony soared up through the lab, crashing through the stone and howling with delight as his muscles ached with freedom and movement, his thoughts consumed with Steve and the hope that he would be proud.

...

Coulson awoke with a startled hiss of shock, seeing Tony standing in front of him, holding out a clump of wires and computer chips.

"I got the heart to one of the Doombots, and some files, but I may have _also_ caused an international incident, so...can we go?" Tony asked. "Before he gets up here?"

_"STARRRK!"_

"Like, uh, _now?_ " Tony asked. 

Coulson sighed and grabbed his arm, taking the files and heart from him so Tony could cuddle the shield protectively, the two of them bolting from the castle as Coulson called for S.H.I.E.L.D. backup.

They were bundled away into a S.H.I.E.L.D. jet within minutes, whereupon Tony slumped against the wall and sighed with relief.

"Time to go home?" He asked. Coulson shook his head.

"No, not yet...but I'm impressed you got everything so fast." He said. Tony shrugged.

"Steve helped. Shield protected me, saved me. And I wanna go home so he can take care of me." Tony grumbled. 

To his shock, Coulson nodded.

"I understand," he murmured, "I want to go home and tend to Clint and Natasha. I'm sure Steve's just as worried about you as I am about them, and I'm sorry, Tony. But we need to stay here and collect intel about Latveria as a whole for a few days. I promise, though—we're _not_ going back into the castle. Not if I can help it."

That last part was muttered underneath his breath, for in truth, Fury had wanted the mission to consist of Tony infiltrating the castle and gathering intel for a week. Coulson absolutely refused to put Tony at that much risk for that long. Fury would be content with what they had. For now...he would protect Tony as best as he could.

"I can take this armor off? Thank god." Tony said.

The armor fell away and Coulson fell to his knees. 

He didn't realize he had begun to frantically scrub at the wounds until Tony's voice was in his ear, very softly whispering, "Phil? Phil, don't...it hurts..."

"Sorry, sorry," Coulson gasped, "sorry, _sorry_ , oh, oh _god,_ need to get you to the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, now—you need to be in the medbay, Tony, oh my god, _oh my god—_ "

"No," Tony said firmly, "I want Steve to take care of me. He _promised_. I want him. You can make sure these aren't infected, and that's it. _I want Steve._ "

Coulson would have protested. He would have marched Tony right into the medbay personally and demanded that he be sedated and treated, regardless of his protests. He would have, not too long ago, threatened to take Tony off the team if he didn't get treatment.

But now, as he looked into Tony's eyes, he was only reminded of two frightened agents at death's door, holding doctors at gun and arrow point, desperate for the one man they trusted to come take care of them the only way they could really be taken care of.

And so Coulson nodded in agreement and knelt beside him, taking out his first-aid kit and disinfecting Tony's scrapes and cuts, applying gauze to the deeper ones. If Tony hadn't already fallen asleep, he would've probably been surprised. As it was, Coulson tended to him as carefully as he could before getting a blanket out, spreading it out over Tony, situating the shield over his chest, and going back to the pilot's seat, eager to get him someplace that he could eat and rest safely before Coulson dared send him out to do anything at all.

...

Steve shoveled breakfast in his mouth quickly enough to make Clint blink in surprise, curious.

"...You _sure_ Tony's okay?" Clint asked. Steve nodded.

"Yes, he's okay," he promised, "but he _needs me_. I need to be with him _, now._ " 

"...Okay..." Clint ventured, quirking an eyebrow, "how can you do that?"

"Sunglasses, he gave me sunglasses, my clever baby, so very beautiful and smart, my little darling—sunglasses, he can send me messages, I can send them back, _I need to go be with him_ , sorry, _sorry,_ " Steve apologized, bolting from the room and back up the stairs, "sorry, I'll be back as soon as I can!"

Clint looked at the open door and then back at Natasha and Thor. 

"...So...we've got another hour or so before work, right?" He asked. Natasha sighed.

"Do you honestly think Steve's going to _want_ to go to work?" She replied. Clint shrugged.

"No, but he's got to; we need him. Just...let him have his time with Tony, first." He amended. They all nodded.

"Aye," Thor said gravely, "my shieldbrothers' bond is strong...and fierce when tested. I worry for them."

"We all do, big guy." Clint comforted him, leaning on his shoulder and sighing. "Speaking of...you doing okay?"

Thor didn't answer him for a minute.

Then he nodded, ruffling Clint's hair the way he had seen Coulson do. He would not normally assume the duties of a lover, but from the way Clint relaxed and smiled immediately, Thor was convinced he had made the right decision.

"I am," he said, "for I am with my team and at peace. I will be all right. And so will the two of you." He promised.

They looked hesitant, but hopeful. From what Thor knew of their backstories, he counted that as progress.

They sat down in the kitchen, together and content, the light streaming in through the window and warming them all up as they sipped coffee and waited for Steve.

...

Steve put the sunglasses on immediately and asked, "Tony? Tony, darling, can you hear me? Tony?"

_"Hello, Steve. It's Phil. Tony's asleep."_

Steve jumped a little, but he nodded, adjusting quickly. Tony being asleep was a relief, at least...though his heart ached with just how much he missed his darling. He hoped Tony would awaken before he had to go to work...

"Hi, Phil," Steve greeted him despite the heartache, "Tony's resting? Is he all right? Are you okay?"

From back in Latveria, tucked away in the S.H.I.E.L.D. base for the time being, Phil sighed and looked at Tony, who had been convinced to at least lie down and rest for the time being, even if he wouldn't let the doctors near his cuts and bruises. 

_"I'm fine, I'm fine_ ," Coulson promised, " _Tony's all right...but he wants you to be there to take care of him. He won't let the doctors see to him._ "

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

The snarl that enamated from Coulson's earpiece suddenly was barely human in its pitch and depth.

_"TONY."_

Steve's voice sent shudders down Coulson's spine. Tony's eyes opened immediately. Phil wouldn't be surprised if he had been woken solely by the sound of Steve's voice calling his name. He just handed Tony his sunglasses.

"Talk to him." Phil said. 

Tony put them on and laid back against the pillows.

"Hey, babe." Tony murmured, smiling. "How are you?"

_"If you don't let them take care of you, I won't._ " Steve snapped. 

Tony's eyes widened with agonizing hurt. Even Phil winced a little at that.

"...Steve, _please.._." Tony begged. "I wanna go home, Steve...I want _you_ to take care of me...back in bed, safe...please, _please._ I can wait. It's nothing major. I promise."

Steve swallowed.

_"How deep are the cuts, Phil_?" He asked. Phil had never been more grateful for a speaker option in his life.

"Due to the way the armor was forced to contort during Tony's stakeout, some of the gashes reach up to about three inches down into his skin." Phil said slowly.

Steve didn't say anything for a few minutes. Tony looked at Coulson like he wanted to kill him. As long as Tony got patched up, Phil didn't care.

_"I love you, Tony, and more than_ anything, _I want to take care of you_." Steve said. Tony relaxed, smiling with triumph at his evident victory. Phil was officially confused.

" _But_ ," Steve added, the smile suddenly fading from Tony's face, _"I know I won't see you for a few more days at best. That's why I want to make a compromise, my love."_

Tony licked his lips nervously, shifting in his bed. Coulson actually felt a twinge of pity for him; he looked so heartbroken at the prospect of Steve not being there to tend to him...

"...What kind of compromise?" Tony asked, his voice hesitant and quiet. 

" _If you let them stitch up the wounds that are serious, and might make it so that you don't get home to me at all, my darling...I'll take care of you the second you get home. I promise. I'll fix you up and make you something warm to eat, and get you in the shower and dress you up—then we'll go out somewhere nice and dance, just to enjoy ourselves a little._ " Steve promised. Tony listened on, enraptured by the romantic scenario Steve spun so well, like a gossamer spidersilk thread that connected them across thousands of miles.

" _Tony, honey, I promise,_ " Steve continued on, " _once you get home, I will rock you to sleep and stroke your hair and bandage up your wounds and bathe you and tend to you and love you and then promise that_ I will never ever let you go on a god damn mission like this again for as long as you live."  A harsh, sharp laugh burst from the speaker. Coulson winced, putting a hand on Tony's shoulder as he whimpered in reply. 

_"Never, sweetheart,_ never," Steve promised, " _and I'll take care of you after this one time, like you trusted me to, and things will be okay. I love you. But please, Tony.._." Steve covered his mouth with his hand for a second so Tony wouldn't hear him gasp with agony and fear. " _Darling_ , please. _Trust me when I say Phil will make sure they take care of you. Let them do it so that you'll be around for me to do it later, okay? Please?"_

Tony didn't respond for a few minutes. Back in New York, trembling on the bed, wrapped up in their blankets and gripping them tightly, as if by sheer force of his desire to be holding Tony he could pull him into his arms, Steve grit his teeth and waited.

"...Okay," Tony finally promised, and Coulson actually groaned in relief, immediately calling for the med team, "I promise, Steve. I'll be back as soon as I can, okay? I'll be with you soon...promise. Love you." He smiled. "The shield's safe, by the way. I'm taking good care of it."

" _Oh, darling_ ," Steve told him, " _you take care of yourself first and worry about the shield second. The shield isn't my heart anymore, Tony—_ you _are._ " He smiled, even though he knew Tony couldn't see it.

_"You rest, sweetheart. I'll keep the sunglasses on—message me once you're all bandaged up. I love you, darling. See you later._ " Steve promised.

Tony grinned and adjusted the sunglasses just as the medics came in, Athena Danvers leading them, her lips pursed and her eyes sharp as she fixed her gaze on Coulson. 

"Okay, babe. Love you too." Tony replied, letting Phil take the sunglasses then and leave the room while they tended to him, a sinking feeling in his stomach as he slipped out the door. Even as Athena got the sutures ready and prepared to take care of Tony, Coulson had a bad feeling _he_ was going to be the one dealing with her very, very soon...


	73. Cigarette Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athena and Phil talk. Steve fusses. Natasha drives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, this is why I like Athena. She's not quite like Tony and not quite like Coulson. Tony was raised from birth, essentially, to be Captain America's future husband. In the end, he did in fact make the choice to love Steve, but he was pushed towards that path and led halfway down it before kicking his father in the shins and bolting the rest of the way himself.  
> Metaphorically speaking.  
> And Coulson loves Steve, but as an idol, a hero, and a friend. There's no romantic attraction there; the inspiration to be a better man and in fact a good one...that's there. No "true love" for him. But Athena...Athena fell in love with him; she wasn't goaded into it by her own Dad of the Year, she wasn't forced or manipulated or anything...it was just...this quiet, persistent love. Like a steady, small river. It didn't drown her, but it never dried out. But she was never like Tony. She never believed he would come back--she had no reason to, and the whole world told her not to bother. Tony ignored the whole world and was left with no options other than TO believe. So she grew up and moved on and now he's back and part of her thinks maybe, maybe if she had waited, if she had believed...he would be her Captain. Like the little girl in her always dreamed. But he deserves to be with the man who never stopped dreaming, she thinks, and so she's...bitter. And sad. And she still loves him.  
> You know, she was just meant to be a reference to Carol Danvers because of how much I love her. Oops.  
> Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Steve came downstairs with a small smile on his face, his costume already on, the sunglasses perched on his forehead.

"Tony can talk to me through these," he explained, "but please don't tell anyone. They have to remain secret, I think..."

"Probably," Clint agreed, getting up and stretching. "Tony okay, though?"

Steve grinned, sighing with relief and nodding. 

"Yes, he's fine," he said. "I managed to talk him into getting stitches for his major wounds, promised I'd tend to him later, and as far as I know, Phil's got him. He's safe too. They're back at base for a little while."

"Good." Clint smiled, looking genuinely relaxed and relieved as he clapped Steve on the shoulder. "Ready to head out, then?"

"Oh, of course!" Steve agreed. "Um...who's going to _drive_ , though?"

The god who still found cars to be a mysterious form of mechanical steed looked at the man who thought people going under seventy were slow and needed to be ran off the road, who looked at a man who had been around when Henry Ford was still making cars, who finally looked at the only one of them who had both working knowledge and general experience driving a car and gave her puppy eyes.

With a very heavy, long-suffering sigh, Natasha went and grabbed the keys to one of Tony's cars that could seat all four of them, getting them all outside and ready to go. 

For a moment, it was as if her Coulson was beside her, his voice low and warm as he advised her on how to handle them, and just before she got into the car, she stopped, her hand on the door handle.

"Nat?" Clint's voice interrupted her reverie, quiet and concerned. Natasha blinked and looked up to meet his eyes, smiling brightly.

"Yes, Clint," she said, "I'm right here. Just give me a minute."

She felt Phil's hand on her back, warm, firm guidance as she got in the car and drove off, heading for S.H.I.E.L.D. base. Where his hand was on her back, Clint's hand was on her shoulder, and the three of them remained as close as they could, even if it was just two for the time being. If Steve and Thor noticed, they did not say a word; they let the three of them have a moment, if only in Clint and Natasha's minds.

...

Tony was pretty safely tucked away and stitched up as Coulson paced the hallway, tensing up every time he heard a door open. He got so lost in his pacing that, eventually, he turned around and bumped right into Athena. He barely registered that he had until she grabbed him by the shoulders and snarled, "I want to know what's going on."

"I honestly have no idea." Coulson replied. His back was up already; that wasn't going to end well for anyone involved. Athena huffed.

_"Bullshit,_ Phil. I've known you for a pretty long time, and I _know_ when you're up to something. What the hell does it have to do with Tony?" She demanded. "That idiot gets into enough trouble as it is!"

"It—it's not Tony," Phil said, trying not to sigh, "I promise, it isn't Tony. Well, not _exactly._ " He looked at her. She raised an eyebrow and waited for an explanation.

"Look," he said, "just—this isn't Tony. Tony's fine. Well, he's not fine, but I'm trying to make him that way. Just trust me. Asking questions won't help." 

He shot her a sharp glare and hoped it was enough to get her to cotton on to the cameras everywhere. Athena's gaze flickered up to the nearest one before she huffed.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," she grumbled, "but... _why,_ Phil?" She sighed. "You used to be so good at this. Followed every order. Obeyed your superiors without complaint or question. You were efficient and clever and forthcoming, and now..."

He wasn't sure if what she wanted to say was out of pride or admonishment. From the way she shrugged, a small smirk on her face, he guessed the former. Regardless, he needed to remain on the defensive. For Tony and Steve's sakes. 

"This is _my team_ , Doctor Danvers, and I am following orders; I am securing Stark's safety before sending him out on another mission." He said smoothly. Athena laughed. There was no happiness in the sound.

"I don't even know if that's what Fury _really_ wants anymore." She remarked. 

"My orders were to keep him safe." Coulson said, trying to get her to fall silent—for her sake, now. He wasn't sure how much anyone around here could step over the line anymore. "Safe and on-task, of course. He'll be back out by the end of the day."

"I bet he will." Athena muttered. "Go with him, won't you? Keep him safe for the Captain?" 

"...I will." Coulson replied. "But not just for the Captain—for Tony, too."

Athena grinned and lit a cigarette.

"Don't tell anyone," she said, self-consciously smoking. "I only do it after a particularly bloody job. He was a wreck, you know. And he still wanted the Captain to take care of him." She huffed.

"I loved him, you know," she said, almost conversationally. "The Captain, I mean. Just for a little while, as a little kid."

"Everyone did." Coulson agreed, adding, "I certainly did. It isn't a strange thing, to have loved the Captain." 

Athena shrugged. The smoke from her cigarette slumped, began to creep in a haze around her face, obscuring the glint of pain in her eyes.

"Not everyone acted on it, though," she said, "because no one could ever be as good as him, live up to his standards. Certainly not me. And, for awhile...not even Tony. But he _tries_ —tries harder than anyone else in the world. And...that's why Steve loves him, I think."

"I don't know..." Coulson murmured, "I've always thought it was because Tony _didn't_ try to be like Steve that he loved him. That he was something different and new and so wholly accepting and understanding at the same time...he was everything Steve needed, and vice versa."

Athena shrugged again, exhaling a plume of smoke.

"Both is good," she said. "It doesn't matter, whatever the answer is—you will keep them safe?"

He looked at her and knew full well that she didn't mean just on this mission.

He was going to have to be even more careful from now on.

"Of course." He agreed. Athena chuckled, throwing her cigarette away and grinding it underneath her foot.

"Good," she said, "because if I can't marry the Captain, someone has to, and he's not gonna let it be anyone else."

She walked away from Coulson and back into Tony's room to go check on him. For a long minute, he just watched her.

Then he massaged his temples in a vain attempt to banish an oncoming headache and walked outside. He needed the fresh air. The stench of smoke was overpowering.

...

Tony whined softly as Athena rubbed disinfectant over his wounds, fixing him with a sharp gaze.

"If you go out in that stealth armor, you go flying and that's _it;_ no contorting or bending, because the pieces will cut you." She snapped. "Fucking _hell,_ Tony! What were you _thinking_?"

"...Sorry," Tony actually apologized, making her stop and stare, "I know, it was dumb. But I had a mission to do."

Athena looked down at him and realized for the first time as she met his eyes then and there, just how someone like Steve Rogers could fall in love with a man like Tony Stark. She bowed her head a little, humbled.

"...Yeah, I get it," she agreed. "But you've got someone waiting for you to come home safe, and he's been waiting long enough for someone like you, huh?" She managed to tease him lightly. Tony grinned.

"I guess," he said, and for a second, Athena's heart ached at the smile that lit up his whole face when Steve came up, "I mean, it's been about seventy years, y'know?" He laughed. "I'll be fine. I'm going home as soon as I can. We just need a little more intel."

"...All right..." Athena sighed. "But stay safe. Seriously. If I have to come back into this medbay for your sorry ass, I'll be pissed."

"I'm surprised how much you care, Doctor Danvers, considering how many of your physicals I've bolted from." Tony remarked. Athena rolled her eyes.

"Look, if only for _Steve's_ sake—stay _safe,_ okay?" She demanded.

Tony fell silent at that.

Then he nodded, slow and sure, and let her clean the rest of his cuts without even a wince. 

"Okay," he murmured, so softly she figured she wasn't meant to hear it, "okay, Steve. For you, Steve. Only you. Always you."

The room was quiet after that as she patched Tony up, with orders to her crew to check on him hourly.

Athena stood up and walked away once she was done cleaning the cuts out without another word. She needed another cigarette. Anything to make the air around her smoky and obscure her sight, cloud her thoughts.


	74. The Only One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets experimented on. Thor has emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casual Loki feelings! Thor won't reunite with him for a long, long time, haha. When he does, though...  
> Anyways, yeah, S.H.I.E.L.D. basically wants Steve as a lab rat whenever possible. Without Coulson, who might kill them all for that, or Tony, who definitely would, around...it's like "hey prime opportunity let's jump on that!" Jeeeesus.   
> Anyways, yeah. Steve being a bit flirty is adorable. He tries. ^^

Steve spent the entire day in a semi-charmed kind of worry; sure, he was assured that Tony was safe with Coulson, but he also knew full well that wouldn't last. It worried him more than he could properly express, and as such, all of his conversation that day as he spent it in the labs with Thor, letting S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors run tests on his physique and brain, was flat and half-there. 

It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to be around Thor—the god was his only comfort that day, as Clint and Natasha were still upstairs training recruits—but without knowing Tony was completely safe and sound and on his way home again, there was an emptiness within Steve, a fear that gnawed at his soul, and it made it hard to talk due to the ashes and dust in his mouth.

Thor seemed to understand, though. He did not speak much, either. He simply remained by Steve's side, Mjolnir close by, having thousands of tests run over it, his eyes closed. Steve relaxed whenever Thor was allowed to touch him, a pause between tests, because it reminded him that even when Tony was gone, his heart somewhere thousands of miles away, he was not alone.

Still, the gaps between tests were few and far between, and so Steve found himself alone with his thoughts more and more, thinking only of Tony. God, how could he have been so stupid? He let Tony go off on that mission _alone_ , without a single Avenger to watch over him and protect him...

Clint had been right. Maybe he could've done it with another person—and Steve would have gone in an instant, no questions asked—but not by himself. Tony might not play well with others, but he _needed_ them, more than anything. 

Steve bit his lip so hard it bled. 

He couldn't have done anything. He knew that. Superior's orders. He was a military man. You didn't refuse your superior. And Nick had done so much for him...he had let him stay with Tony, be a part of the Avengers, and he hadn't been fazed at all about their relationship...

He owed Director Fury. And on top of that, he was his superior.

But...he was hurting Tony. He was putting Tony in danger...

Steve would've thought further on the subject and tried to work out his confusion, but a needle was shoved into his arm and the pain sent his thoughts scattering, the blood they took from him banishing them entirely, making him too dizzy to think.

Eventually, he awoke again, and Tony was still nagging at the forefront of his mind, because honestly, Steve never stopped thinking about Tony. 

Steve knew he would be safe. Safe...shielded...somewhere. He needed him. He needed to see him. 

Tonight. When he was alone. Tony wasn't safe, not really, until he was alone with him.

Steve leaned his head back and let them draw more blood, test his reflexes, analyze a sample of his cells, and look at his brain patterns until Thor stood up, a lion of the sun in the dead, sterile room, and looked about.

This was what they had done to his brother, he realized as he looked about. They had sliced him up and torn him apart and pulled out all his insides to examine him. To torture him. They wanted to open his brother up and experiment upon him. To them, he was not human. He was a test subject, a curiosity.

And now Steven, his shieldbrother; he was as human as they, but it mattered not. Not so long as the serum ran through his veins. He was in danger, same as Loki; they would tear his friends apart after they had gorged themselves on his brother's secrets. 

No. No more. He was a king, and he would not stand for this. He had suffered enough. His friends had suffered enough. His brother continued to suffer, and Thor had no solution to that, but he had not forgotten Loki's suffering. It would be repaid in full.

For now, though, there was Steven. He could take care of him; tend to the Captain, so good and so lost. It was the least he could do. The Captain had no shield to save him, not now. Thor would lend him his hammer in its place.

He surveyed them all with sharp blue eyes that betrayed none of his inner turmoil; they were like locusts, and would descend upon the slightest scrap of emotion to tear it apart, should he reveal it. Thor grit his teeth and stood beside Steve, shielding him with his bulk, his hair glimmering in the dim lab lights like a lion's mane, his entire bearing a clear indicator for them to back off.

"Steven has done enough," he said gravely, "and you have performed enough experiments on him for today. I am taking him home."

Steve didn't know why. Not that he wasn't grateful, but the sudden rebellion from Thor, however mild, was...strange. He was too dizzy from blood loss to question it, and too worn out to protest when Thor just up and picked him up off the examination table, carrying him away.

He didn't know why Thor was crying, but he could feel the tears. He didn't want Thor to cry. He was his friend, and he wanted Thor to be happy. He knew Thor missed Loki. He would...try to help, maybe...

He put his hand in Thor's and squeezed it tight. It was the least he could do.

"Don't worry," Steve slurred, smiling up at him, already half-asleep, "m'safe. Thanks."

"You are now." Thor said quietly. "And that is why I did it for you. Because there is someone for which I could not." 

"Soon." Steve promised, though he wasn't really aware of what he was saying, and was, in truth, asleep in a few minutes anyway, the drugs taking hold. Thor sighed.

"Perhaps," he agreed quietly, "but for the moment, saving you was enough."

He carried his shieldbrother back to the car and called for Natasha and Clint to join them. He knew Steven would have done the same. 

But he would forever be the only one to do so for Loki.

...

Steve settled in that night a little better, because he could message Tony now—the sunglasses had been left with Thor because of all the tests, and it wasn't like the god could let the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents know just what the sunglasses could do—and the visible relief he had when he put them on made everyone else wince.

"Hi, Tony." Steve said, love evident in his voice as he made his way about the kitchen, cooking everyone pancakes as they had requested, the other three of them sipping coffee and watching him. "You all right, darling?"

Steve suddenly blushed.

"Oh, uh, hi, Phil." He mumbled. "No, I thought...oh, Tony's getting ready to go out? Oh. Uh, all right. He'll have the glasses with him? I thought so. That's a relief, at least." Steve smiled. "All right, then. I guess I can wait a few more minutes." 

He paused, looked at his friends, and smiled.

"Would you like to talk to Clint and Natasha, Phil?" He asked. 

The two of them didn't hear his reply, but they were handed the sunglasses, and that was answer enough. It was just a matter of sharing a pair of earbuds that Steve hooked into the sunglasses for them, seeing they were far too excited to focus on details like that.

"I miss you so much!" Clint whimpered quietly, biting his lip and looking away as he gushed, as if he was afraid that somehow, the other three people in the kitchen who were all currently missing someone they loved more than anything would judge him for doing the same goddamn thing. 

_"I miss you too, Clint. Tony and I will be back home soon, don't worry. Are you taking care of Natasha?"_ Phil asked. Clint huffed.

"You gotta ask?" He retorted. Phil's laugh was warm in Clint's ear.

_"Not really, but you're cute when you get huffy."_ He said. Clint's face flushed a little. Natasha smiled and kissed his cheek. 

"I miss you, Phil." She finally murmured. "Are you well, though? It is a dangerous mission. We all knew that. I...I would like you to come home as fast as possible." 

" _I know, sweetheart. I'd like to come home as quickly as I can, too. But for the moment, Tony and I are safe and sound; he's got to go out and get intel, but he'll be in the armor and not going near the castle. He's just going to be going around Latveria and seeing if the citizens are organizing a rebellion or anything else S.H.I.E.L.D. can encourage or supply_." Coulson sighed. 

_"Oh,_ hell, _darlings. I love you both and I miss you. We'll try to be home in three days; we need to cover the main towns and cities of Latveria, but the armor's fast and picks up data without Tony having to do much but pilot it—if we work hard we'll be home with plenty of intel so Tony can rest for a little while without Fury nagging him. And I'll be home to take care of you both, promise."_ Coulson said. Clint, Natasha, and Steve all looked completely relieved.

"Love you, Phil. We'll let Steve have the glasses back, okay?" Clint said. "Could you talk to us later, maybe, though?"

_"Of course, Clint. I'll tell Tony to let Steve know when he's back at base with me. If you can pry the lovebirds away from each other, we'll talk then, okay?_ " Coulson promised. Steve blushed and grumbled, but he was smiling. Clint and Natasha nodded.

"Okay," Natasha whispered, "I love you, Phil. Be safe. We are waiting for you."

She handed Steve back the sunglasses, letting him go back to the pancakes as the two of them snuggled together beside Thor, who had begun to stroke their hair, looking more like a loving mother than a god. Steve smiled, shook his head, and went back to cooking.

As Steve set down the plates, a message finally blipped onto his screen. 

_"Hi, Steve. I missed you, babe."_

"Tony!" Steve shrieked, delighted, before realizing everyone was staring. He grinned shyly. "Uh, sorry. I'm eating dinner right now. Are you all right, darling?"

_"Yeah, I'm fine, Steve. Gotta cover a few cities tonight if I wanna be home soon, but I can still message you. Eat and shower, okay? Message me when you're done; we'll talk, I promise. Love you. I'll stay safe._ " Tony promised. Steve nodded and smiled.

"All right, darling. I trust you. Be safe and careful, and keep in contact with either me or Phil." Steve's heart ached as he heard Tony's voice in his ear, soft and warm.

" _I will,"_ Tony told him, _"and I'll stay safe. Promise."_

He ate quickly before settling everyone in on the couch again, kissing their foreheads like the doting mother they all knew he was. They didn't pester him to watch the movie with them—Thor had taken Steve's place as mother hen for Clint and Natasha tonight, and they were cuddled against him, half-asleep and content. Thor met Steve's eyes and nodded.

Steve just grinned and bolted, relieved his friends understood, showering as fast as possible while enjoying the feel of Tony's washcloth and the scent of his conditioner and soap, settling into Tony's robe and climbing into bed, putting the glasses on and smiling, content.

"I'm wearing your robe, darling." He announced. 

_"Ugh, don't tell me that while I'm trying to pilot this thing."_ Tony protested, his voice warm in Steve's ear. Steve chuckled, snuggling under the covers.

"Sorry, sorry," he apologized, "and—wow, this will sound ridiculous, but...I didn't realize how beautiful your voice was until it was the only thing I had to remember you by. Tony..."

_"I am trying to pilot the suit! Stop—stop being perfect!_ " Tony snapped. Steve laughed. 

"Okay, sorry," he teased, "but your voice is even more beautiful when you get all huffy." 

Tony groaned. Steve just settled in for the night, soaking up every bit of cadence and quirk to Tony's voice, soothing himself with the sound of his lover.


	75. Heart in Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An explanation, a token, a mourner, and a friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Athena.  
> And yes, I figure it's custom to keep a kind of token of your partners about when they're not on a mission with you. The Commandos practiced it, and since they formed SHIELD after WWII...the practice stuck. Steve doesn't even realize that's where it came from, haha.  
> God, I love Phil and Tony's friendship. I really do. I want more of it in the movies; like why Tony likes him, of all people. I mean, it's illogical...but they're friends. And I wanna know how! And why!  
> Anyways, fluff and things. Hope you like~

Tony would _never_ admit to anyone that he was blushing as he zipped around the city that night, the armor's camo shifting as he passed buildings and people, but Steve always had that effect on him. His lover always knew exactly what to say to make Tony feel like he was the most loved and wanted person on the planet.

Tony grinned. He was far away from Steve, but he had Steve's shield with him, waiting back at base, safe and sound, and that was like having Steve's heart beside him, so that was something.

He flew for a little while in peace and quiet—he didn't want what he said to Steve to show up on the surveillance and intel he was collecting. The things he told his lover were to remain private.

Tony had managed to make his way through the first—and, admittedly only—major city of Latveria and about half of its surrounding villages when a call came through the suit. Not from Steve, though—from Phil.

_"Stark, it's getting late. You need to come back to base and rest. Doctor's orders. And mine. And Steve's._ " Phil told him. Tony huffed. 

"I'm halfway done with the villages, Phil, c'mon; we wanna get home quickly, right?" Tony cajoled him. Coulson sighed.

_"Look, I'm sure Steve's waiting up for you, and you_ know _he shouldn't be up late, and Athena wants to make sure the suit hasn't caused any major damage. Also, as your handler, I'd like_ you _in bed at a sane hour, as well. You've done enough for the night, Tony. You did a good job. Please come back to base."_ Phil told him. 

Tony paused in midair, thinking of Steve alone in bed, waiting for him. He would've brushed off Phil and Athena's concerns, but—Steve.

Ah, hell. Not like there was much else of Latveria to cover anyway.

Tony grinned and nodded, turning around and heading back to base. 

"Okay, Phil. I'm on my way back now. Tell Athena to be ready for me; I'm not that interested in doing much else but talking to Steve." Tony told him. Phil chuckled.

_"All right, all right. I'll have something ready for you to eat, too. Either you eat it, or I'm telling Steve. Clea_ r?" He said. Tony rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, _mom_..." Tony muttered, but he was soaring off for base eagerly, regardless.

...

Coulson was as good as his word; the second Tony alighted down and the suit began to fall away from him, he was standing outside with a tray of food, tapping his foot urgently and giving him a look. Tony rolled his eyes and took it, following Phil inside as Athena met them at the door.

"You haven't worried the stitches too much, which is good, but if you go on another mission in this thing without underarmor, I'm kicking your ass." She told him as they made their way down the hallway, Tony already dutifully chewing away on the sandwiches Phil had made him. He rolled his eyes again and gave her a look.

"Take it up with Fury, Athena, he sent me on this mission." He grumbled, swallowing the sandwich and following her into the medbay.

"Well I very well fucking _might_!" She snapped, yanking open her medkit and making both Phil and Tony jump. She shot a sharp look at them both and they shut their mouths immediately, remaining quiet as she yanked out a stethoscope and pressed it against the reactor. 

"God _damn_ it, I can't read this," she grumbled, "not like Rogers could. Your boyfriend has your heartbeat memorized, did you know that? He knows just what your heartbeat sounds like, and how many beats you normally have per minute. Just so he can make sure you're not in danger from heart murmurs or trauma. Wonderful man. So good for you. So good for the _world._ " She took out the stethoscope and looked up at him. 

"Don't let S.H.I.E.L.D. take that away, Tony," she begged, her emotion genuine and her fear real. " _Please_."

"I wasn't...wasn't going to...let them." Tony said, raising an eyebrow. "We're the Avengers. We do good. S.H.I.E.L.D. likes us."

"Good," Athena muttered, re-bandaging up his cuts. "Because you're not the only person who needs him, either."

Tony let her finish up her work in silence before she looked at him again.

"Eat some food and get some sleep. Doctor's orders. Call me if anything starts acting up." She told him. "I'll see you in the morning, Stark."

"Likewise, Doctor Danvers." Tony said, unsure of what had just transpired. Athena left without another word, leaving him and Phil in the medbay. 

Coulson sighed and led him out of the room, carrying his tray of food for him as he led Tony to their room. Tony's face split into a genuine grin when he saw his bed and what lay on it.

"I had them bring it in from the plane after we patched you up." Coulson explained. "It's your way of being with him, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Tony said, looking at Phil with surprise, "like...like I've got a piece of his heart with me, always. I...I guess it is my way of being with him."

Coulson put down the tray of food on the nightstand. Then he reached into his suit pocket. Tony tensed, curious, until he saw what Phil held in his hand; a small silver arrowhead and a thin gold tube. 

"The first arrow he ever hit a bulls-eye with," Coulson said quietly, "and a stinger from her original bracelets. Designed them herself. Clever girl, my Natasha."

"...They have something from you?" Tony asked, tilting his head and looking at Phil with a newfound understanding in his eyes. Coulson nodded.

"Pieces of the first record Clint ever broke." He said, sounding amused. "He bought me a new one, of course. Hacked into S.H.I.E.L.D. databases to find the only store within a hundred miles that sold it. But they keep the pieces, because they've got to be careful with them. It reminds them of how I had to be with them when we first met—careful, both that I didn't break them down further, and that I didn't cut myself on their pieces."

Tony was quiet.

"...I wish you could go home to them," he murmured. "I'm sorry I made you come with me on this mission. You shouldn't be here." He swallowed. "They need you more than I do."

"Nonsense," Phil replied, sitting on the bed beside him, "you didn't make me do this at all. I would _never_ let an Avenger fight alone. That isn't our way. They know it, too; they understand. They know my place is here. As do I." He sighed. "And you _all_ need me right now, more than some of you know. Especially you, Tony." He told him. "Because you miss him like they miss me. And that's not something _anyone_ should go through alone."

They sat in silence for awhile. 

Then, without a word, Tony put his arm around Phil, leaning his head on his shoulder. 

Coulson didn't say a word in return, but there was a sudden warmth to his eyes. Tony ate quietly, his eyes focused on something far away. Phil gripped the arrowhead and the stinger in his fist. The shield sat on Tony's lap.

"Go to bed, Phil." Tony finally said after he finished his dinner. "I don't want you on this mission with me tomorrow if you're tired, okay?" 

His teasing grin was back, but there was something more behind it. Genuine respect and understanding, and a shared empathy made Tony's grin a little more powerful.

"You too." Coulson said. "But, please—talk to Steve first, all right?"

Tony just got up, put his pajamas on, and slipped the sunglasses on over his eyes, shooting Phil a grin. 

The agent rolled his eyes, but he got dressed and ready for bed, getting in with a sense of relief, knowing Tony was going to be taken care of while he rested. He would be all right. 

Tony settled into bed as he watched Phil close his eyes, falling asleep in less than a minute, before he whispered, "Steve?"

_"Tony! Oh, darling, I was starting to get worried! Are you all right_?" Steve's voice was a soothing balm on his nerves and music to his ears. Tony smiled, taking out his phone and starting to text.

_"Yeah, but I can't talk out loud. Phil's sleeping. Plus, S.H.I.E.L.D. bugs. Y'know_." Tony typed. 

From his place in Tony's bed, Steve sighed and nodded, laying against the pillows and turning his head to Tony's side of the bed, as if he could bring him there somehow, if he imagined it hard enough.

"It's okay, love," Steve promised. "I'm just glad you and Phil are all right."

_"Yep. I have the shield, too. Gonna sleep with it tonight and pretend it's you. Not as hard as your abs, tho. <3_" 

Steve blushed and sputtered. In the darkness, Tony grinned, his smile illuminated by the pale light of his phone. 

"Tony! I—well. Goodness." Steve blushed even darker. "I'm in your bed, you know that? I feel so safe and warm in here." He grinned. "And I'm still wearing your robe."

_"Rowr. Lovely. I knew there was a reason I bought that robe to be big on me. You should wear it to S.H.I.E.L.D. base tomorrow."_

"I might," Steve said, and Tony heard him trying not to laugh, "not a bad idea, Tony. You're so smart!" 

" _Thanks, love. Is everyone ok?_ " Tony asked. Sure, he was worried about Steve, but Pep was out on a mission, and Clint and Natasha were probably going to pieces over Phil. 

"Yes, they're fine," Steve said, "and since I'm sure you're itching to know; we don't know when Pep and Bruce are coming back, but we think soon. It wasn't a long mission. Everyone's at your house, by the way."

Tony smiled and gripped the shield tight against his chest, the metal humming as the arc reactor touched it.

_"You know me so well, babe. Lemme know when Pep gets back. Plus, keep Clint from getting cheetos in strange places. Phil says he's found them in his shoes before."_

"I will," Steve promised, "and don't worry, he and Thor have already gone through most of them." 

_"Ok, babe. I trust you. <3 You should get some sleep, okay? It's late!" _Tony typed. 

"I'm going to, I swear," Steve said, "I just wanted to check in on you. You get some sleep too, okay? And how are your injuries?"

_"You're starting to sound like me in the lab, haha. And thanks. I like knowing you're taking care of me. You always are_." Tony couldn't help but smile, even though he knew Steve couldn't see it. _"And my injuries are fine—Athena looked over them and stitched up the worst of it. Don't worry; there's plenty for you to take care of. I'll be home for you to do it soon, ok?"_

"Okay, darling," Steve whispered, his voice making Tony shiver, "I love you. Sweet dreams. You'll be in my arms soon."

_"Yeah, I will,_ " Tony promised, " _but for now, your heart's in mine. Love you. Sweet dreams_."

The soft cry of love and longing that resonated over the earbuds went right to Tony's heart. He just blew Steve a kiss and turned off the messages, holding the shield close, letting it cover the reactor, closing his eyes and falling asleep. Steve's voice was the only thing he dreamed of for the rest of the night.


	76. Sexually Frustrated Headlights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper and Bruce get down to business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So brief Pep/Bruce interlude--sorry this chapter's kind of short, but the next one will be longer, I promise!  
> As stated, Pepper might seem like she's rushing into things, but my headcanon is she never had a relationship while working with Tony for two reasons. One, Tony needed her, and Tony took top priority, being her best friend. Two, anyone she even considered dating was trying to use her to get closer to Tony in some way...and she didn't like that. She loves Bruce, but she also really does want to just get laid.  
> Also, if anyone would be interested as to what happened on that mission...I'd consider writing a short side-story to accompany it. I'm going back to school, but I can certainly accommodate it soon.  
> As for the formula--while I personally think at this point in time, Bruce is under enough control to have sex without fear of the Hulk, and in fact, it's scientifically and biologically impossible for him to Hulk out even during orgasm...a bit of extra insurance won't hurt.

Pepper yawned and adjusted her rumpled suit jacket as Bruce pulled the car into the garage, raising an eyebrow at just how big the thing was. Pepper grinned, eyes half-lidded with sleep.

"Tony's got like, twenty cars," she told him, "why do you look so surprised?"

"I lived in the middle of India treating sick people in the slums for a year," Bruce remarked, "anything that's a step above running water and indoor plumbing remains impressive."

Pepper reached out and put her hand on his thigh. She had been aiming for his shoulder, honest, but she was curled up in the seat and half-asleep. Reaching for things was hard.

"You're never going back to that, you know." She told him, her voice soft and slurred with sleep. "You've got the Avengers now, okay? They can't get you."

"Because now S.H.I.E.L.D. has me," Bruce remarked, his voice dry and dark, "but then again, _anything's_ better than Ross." He looked down at her. There was something in his eyes she sort of recognized—Tony had that same look, a long time ago, when he had thought her in danger from Stane. It was protection, raw and true. "Here, though, I can protect you." Bruce told her. "So it's not so bad." He swallowed, shrugged, and leaned back in the seat. "A weapon can protect as well as it can destroy...or destroy what it means to protect."

"You've had four hours of sleep in the past two days," Pepper said, sitting up in her seat and giving him a harsh look, "stop it. You get more self-deprecating when you're tired. Let's just go upstairs and go to bed."

"I, uhm. Sure. Let's." Bruce fumbled for the door, hitting the windshield wipers and leaning on the car horn in his process to get out of the car before he realized he was still buckled in. Pepper tried not to laugh as she unbuckled his seatbelt and got out with him.

"C'mon, I think we could both use a shower, too, we really should just get inside..." Pepper opened the door and looked up. "JARVIS? I'm home!"

 _"Welcome back, Pepper_." JARVIS' voice was warm as he greeted her with relief and delight. " _The Captain is asleep upstairs in Anthony's room, and Thor, Natasha, and Clint are on the couch. Try not to wake them, will you? It has been a taxing few days for all of them."_

"Yeah, Phil's still gone, isn't he..." Pepper nodded and added, "it's fine, I won't. Tell them Bruce and I came back and we're sleeping upstairs if they wake up, all right?"

 _"Certainly. I will prepare showers for you and Doctor Banner._ " JARVIS replied. " _Will you need one or two?"_

"You can call me Bruce, JARVIS," Bruce told him, his face bright red, "and two—"

"One is fine." Pepper said, cutting him off. "My room, the usual. Thanks, JARVIS."

Bruce stared at her with the wild look of a deer in sexually frustrated headlights. Pepper shrugged.

"I can just ask him to start up another shower, if you really want," she said, "but we just spent two days packed like sardines into the most cramped dorm room in all of Texas, so I'm pretty sure I've managed to memorize every important detail of your body even _with_ your clothes on, considering."

"But...but are you sure you're ready?" Bruce protested weakly. "Pepper, no offense, but this is really sudden, and I'm not sure if--"

"Bruce, the last time I slept with a man was the week before I started working for Tony. Do you understand what that's done to me?" Pepper snapped. "Not just the sex, but the relationship--I've never had time for another man, it's always been Tony, but now--" She paused and smiled. "Now, I have you. No, sweetheart. I'm not going too fast. I've waited a very long time to be with you." 

"M-me? S-surely not." Bruce shrugged. Pepper tsked and stroked his cheek.

"Yes, you. Someone as beautiful and attentive and kind as you doesn't come along often...and most of the other men I've considered dating were manipulative jerkbags. They wanted to get to Tony, not me. But you...you like me, Bruce. Just as Pepper. That makes you special." She promised. "So yes, I want sex with you. Because I know you're going to be a good lover, and I think you and I both deserve something good to happen to us, right?" 

Bruce swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he looked at her, shifting from foot to foot nervously. The way she was looking at him was going to lead them down a road he really couldn't walk. He had to dissuade her now, or risk hurting her...

"Um, heart rate." He mumbled. God, this was awful. He was the biggest freak ever, and a loser besides—loserfreak? Freakloser? Whatever. Why was she even _dating him_? 

" _Um,_ I talked to the lab techs down there for you, and with a sample of your blood, they managed to synthesize me a temporary solution. It gives you about...an hour of increased heart rate without any...potential rage monster-y side effects, and they've apparently had the idea for awhile, but...S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't given them any reason to use it." Pepper said, in a tone that told him S.H.I.E.L.D. was getting an earful at some point.

The grin she flashed him was far too wolflike for his liking. 

"I did." She said cheerfully. 

Bruce stared at her for a minute longer.

"I think I could survive another ten minutes in cramped quarters with you." He said, his throat dry. "After that, we could reconsider, perhaps. Something comfier, bigger. More bedlike."

"Good man." Pepper said, already heading upstairs. Bruce followed behind her, his face still bright red, but a grin of triumph across his features as they slipped into her room and shut the door behind them, a lock turning into place seconds after.

...

About an hour later, the two of them laid in bed quietly, breathing softly on each others' skin, cooling the heated, flushed surface. Bruce had buried his face into Pepper's neck, his lips warm and soft against the skin.

Pepper was toying with his curls, wrapping them around her fingers and kissing them before letting them fall away.

"...Haven't done that in years." Bruce murmured. "Glad it was with you. I wouldn't want it to be anyone else anymore."

"Same," Pepper replied, kissing his forehead. "Glad I made them give me their entire supply. I think they were anticipating having to breed you or some weird government shit like that."

"Well, that bodes well for our future." Bruce remarked, grinning sleepily. Pepper kissed his forehead, wrapping her legs around his and entwining them. 

"So long as we don't have little green Hulkbabies because Nick Fury said so, I'm good." She said. "I'm just interested in _you_ and what _you_ have to give; not the Hulk, not...y'know. Whatever they were planning to make you do." She kissed his forehead. "You just be Bruce, the brave man who protects me from big, scary dustbunnies, okay?"

He nodded, eyes bright.

She didn't need to say much else, and neither did he; the way he wrapped his arm around her bare waist with such certainty, like he knew he would not— _could not_ —harm her said enough.   
She laid her head on his shoulder and finally closed her eyes, allowing herself some sleep. Bruce watched over her for a few minutes, just to make sure nothing would harm her while she slept, before he nuzzled her shoulder and fell asleep beside her, holding her close and tight.


	77. Fussing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper celebrates. Steve fusses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strictly speaking, Phil, Clint, and Nat do not, in fact, have a d/s relationship. However, Phil acts as their handler and caretaker, and some of what he does in that regard falls under dom/sub dynamics. It's not a romantic or sexual thing, which is why it's okay for Pepper to take over.  
> Also--holy shit, thank you all for 50k views. I posted this hesitantly, unsure if people would like it. And here we are now. :)  
> And in other news, since apparently people don't know--guys, I'm on tumblr too, if you'd like updates on when, well, it updates! I'm the same name as I am here--assistedrealityinterface.

Pepper awoke to Bruce's face buried in her chest. She kissed his forehead and stroked his hair, climbing out of bed without waking him, dressing quietly in a pair of her jeans and Bruce's buttondown. She put socks on and made her way downstairs, humming quietly as she went into the kitchen to make herself some coffee.

In the living room, Clint and Natasha slept peacefully, curled up on the couch, their breathing soft and warm. They were heavy sleepers when they knew they were safe; they would not wake in Tony's house unless Phil himself did it.

...At least, not normally. But they knew Phil was gone now, and even in a safe place, there was a feeling of unease that their Coulson was not by their side. So their sleep was deep, but not so deep that it could not be disturbed.

It was disturbed, in fact, by a song.

Pepper and Phil both hummed; perhaps it was the refuge of all protectors and caretakers, regardless of whom they took care of or where and when. Phil's hum was low and soothing, like a river. Pepper's was bright and warm, like a bird outside the window with its wings catching on the sun.

A hum was a hum, though, and it pulled them from their sleep so as to recognize it. Clint opened his eyes and looked at Natasha. Natasha nodded.

It was not their Phil, but it was still familiar, and it was safe. They basked in the hum for a little while before, quietly enjoying it as the coffee machine gurgled in the kitchen.

Then, without a word, they crept into the kitchen, a specific kind of quiet—more like children worried of being caught by their parents out of bed than secret agents. They settled in at the table, hands folded, eyes bright. Pepper didn't notice them until she turned around, coffee in hand.

" _Ohmygod_!" She yelped, backing away into the refridgerator. "Oh my god, when did you two—"

"May we have coffee, please?" Natasha asked quietly.

The tone of her voice made Pepper pause. They were not asking her to make coffee. They were not even asking her to get them any. They were asking permission.

She had not known Phil for very long, but she had liked him very much. He was a good man; a bit quiet, a bit unused to people who weren't that unique breed that screamed "secret agent," but powerful and clever and yet so very careful and kind. He had a temperment that Pepper recognized as absolutely perfect for dealing with the hurt and broken, and when she had found out from Natasha that he had been the one tending to Tony for the time he spent away from her care, way back when...well, she had been relieved, to say the least.

She had never known Clint until meeting him on the Avengers. But he was a sweet man, despite his protests to the contrary. He was bright and smiled easily and quizzed her on her tastes in music and what she liked to read before chatting amicably about a shared interest in The Clash, which Pepper had picked up from Tony. He had liked being around her, and so she liked being around him.

Natasha, though. She had known Natasha the longest and the best, and she loved her fiercely. Pepper didn't have much time for finding and making friends. Natasha happened to fall into her lap, probably as karmic payback for a life of Tony Stark, and for that, she was eternally grateful. Natasha was capable and clever and achingly beautiful and so very, very strong.

And yet here they both were—the man with the bright smile who enjoyed being around her and her best friend—sitting in her kitchen, awaiting orders, like anxious puppies.

"Of course," she said, because she didn't know what else to do, "of—of course."

Natasha understood, though. She always did. Clever, beautiful Natasha. Good god, her heart ached to see her Natasha like this.  
  
"We miss Phil," she said as she poured herself and Clint coffee, adding their sugar and cream, "and we are...not used to not having a routine. We have always been controlled, Pepper; be it by S.H.I.E.L.D. or our handlers. Phil's control was gentle and loving, and encouraged us to be independent whenever possible while understanding that breaking the pull to submit to a superior that is bred in all agents is a...frustrating experience."

"So...Nat, honey, I'm sorry, but just what does that have to do with me?" Pepper asked, putting the sugar and cream away as Natasha took the mug into her hands and sipped quietly for a few seconds before replying.

"Pepper, you are so careful," she murmured, "so gentle and kind and so very put together. You know how to handle Tony, right? We're not as much trouble. I promise. We just..." Her throat worked reflexively. "Pep, I'm sorry. But Clint trusts perhaps the Avengers and few else, and I really only had you to call upon aside from our comrades. They are all suffering right now from one thing or another...so I would not do so unless necessary. I...I convinced Clint you would be able to watch over us while Phil was gone. There was...no one else I could think of."

Pepper's throat worked reflexively as she swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. Natasha blinked and looked away.

"Please forgive me," she said, "I did not mean to...to involve you. I promise, it is not much; we are not helpless. But we miss Phil. And...well, I think he would agree that you would be the best person to act as our handler until his return."

Pepper stared. She didn't really know what else to do for a minute except stare.

"...Why would he think that?" She asked, finding her throat suddenly dry. Natasha chuckled lightly.

"Who do you think mentioned your potential talent as an agent to Fury in the first place?" She told her. "Before he knew what a beast S.H.I.E.L.D. really was, of course."

"I see." Pepper said, unsure of what to think about that—or what to think about the radical shift in Phil's opinion of S.H.I.E.L.D., for that matter. She sighed.

"So, for the next couple of days, I'm your handler? What does that entail?" She asked. Natasha tilted her head and blinked slowly, owlishly, clutching her mug of coffee.

"Just...making sure we rest, and supervising our training if you've got the time, and reminding us of meals." Natasha told her, averting her gaze shyly. "We are not going on missions, so you don't need to prep us for them or anything—just, I...if this is too much—"

"That's it? That's _all?_ Oh, thank god. That's honestly the lightest workload I've had in _years._ " Pepper said excitedly. "You two sit there while I make some breakfast, okay? How does pancakes sound? I'm making everyone pancakes. I'm going to celebrate."

"I am sorry we are not...independent," Natasha apologized, her face red, "that we are weak...it makes me ashamed to admit this, truly. But...without Phil and his guidance, the things he taught us about being people...I don't...we don't know how to do these sort of things anymore, Pepper. I'm sorry. We're just...frightened."

Pepper turned on her heel and took Natasha's cheeks in her hands, cradling her for a second before she kissed her forehead. She turned to Clint and gave him a quick querying look. He tilted his head up a little so she could take it in her hands and kiss his forehead in kind.

"Oh, Nat, _please_ ," she said, amused, "Tony's the most independent little brat on the planet and even then I'm still practically changing his diapers. You're both amazing Avengers and two of the strongest people I know. This isn't being weak. You're both strong, but even the strongest people need to be taken care of sometimes, right?"

She looked at them both, her gaze kind and understanding as she patted their hands.

"You're not alone now," she told them, "and I think it's perfectly all right to take advantage of that fact."

She went back to making pancakes without another word, leaving the two of them to hold hands over the table, their grip strong and true and comforting, the two of them finally completely relaxed and at ease in a safe place.  
...  
Steve opened his eyes and yawned, stretching out in bed. The lights came up and a soft whirr reverbrated throughout the room. Steve sat up, tilting his head in anticipation of JARVIS.

 _"Steve? Pepper is home. She is downstairs with the others._ " He paused. " _There are pancakes, sir_."

"Swell," Steve said, "I'm going to get dressed first, all right?"

 _"Certainly, sir. I must say, explaining the reasons as to why you are clothed in little else but Anthony's robe may be informative and entertaining, but I believe Pepper would enjoy a break from that sort of thing for a time._ " JARVIS said dryly.

Steve laughed, going into the bathroom and washing his face, brushing his teeth and spitting out the toothpaste before looking up and grinning.

"I can definitely tell my Tony was the one who built you," he said, "you've got the same sense of humor. I'm never sure if you're laughing _at_ me or _with_ me."

 _"In most cases, I am certain Tony's philosophy is that both is appropriate. I admit, it is a policy that has allowed me great flexibility in my capacity to both appreciate and dispense humor. It is a very advanced thing for an AI to do. You should not hinder progress, Captain_." JARVIS said.

"Oh, _definitely_ a smart-aleck." Steve remarked wryly, but he was smiling as he went and got dressed, grabbing his sunglasses before making his way downstairs and entering the kitchen.

He swept Pepper into his arms and gave her a stunning smile, kissing her forehead by way of greeting. Pepper gasped and dropped the spatula before she realized who it was; upon recognizing Steve, she screamed with delight and threw her arms around his neck.

"Oh my god, you're okay! I was so worried one of you was going to burn the house down, you don't even _know_ , Bruce had to take away my phone a few times so I wouldn't text you and ask if you _had_ —" Pepper was cut off as Steve hugged her tight and laughed, shaking his head.

"I'm so glad you're safe." He murmured. "Knowing you're safe is just...a weight off my shoulders, Pep. Especially since Tony..."

"Tony's _still_ out on that fucking mission? I'm going to snap Fury's fucking neck." Pepper said, quiet venom lacing her every word. Steve blushed.

"Lang—" He cut himself off and groaned. "Okay, maybe I can't blame you. I'm...not happy either. But look!" He held up the sunglasses, smiling. "Tony gave these to me; I can talk to him."

"...Could I..." Pepper trailed off as Steve put them on her face for her.

"Just talk," he told her, "they transcribe everything."

Pepper nodded, gripping the sunglasses and smiling.

"...Tony, honey? It's me. Pep." She coughed nervously and smiled. Steve couldn't see it, but he could haphazard a guess her eyes were already red. "I'm okay, Tony. I'm alive. Bruce and I had...well, maybe fun isn't the right word, but he smiled almost the whole time we were there...science, y'know? Plus, I'd like to think I had something to do with it."

Thor and Clint were giving Bruce the most smug, knowing looks Steve had ever seen. Bruce just took out a book from his suit pocket and buried his face in it.

"Anyways, I miss you lots. Tell Phil I've got Clint and Nat and I'm taking care of them. And take care of yourself, you stupid brat. I worry." Pepper blew him a kiss. "Love you, Tony. Stay safe, okay? Steve's been fussing this whole time, I can tell. You're in for it when you get home."

Steve was sputtering as Pepper handed him back the sunglasses, but he put them on and pouted magnificently, so that was something. He looked so much like Tony, though, all sunglasses and pout, that Pepper couldn't help but laugh through her breakfast as Steve grumbled and pouted further at her laughter.

"I do _not_ fuss." He mumbled.

Everyone stared at him with an expression of utter disbelief.

Steve took a bite of his pancakes, stuffing a good half of one into his mouth.

"I take rational, logical care of Tony, taking into consideration his relatively unstable emotional state and fragile mental health." Steve grumbled through a mouth of food.

"You fuss." Pepper said.

And that was that.

Steve continued to pout, but the pride in his bearing was obvious, and so Pepper figured he was pretty thrilled they had noticed. Maybe he simply felt the need to pout in Tony's absence.  
That set her off laughing again, and she was sinking against Bruce's shoulder for support before she knew it. He certainly didn't mind the contact, though.


	78. Bring the Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper is not happy. And so the mountains tremble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry about the lack of upates! AMaHTS updated and Wed on the Fourth of July was finished and then my birthday was this week, so I'm officially eighteen now, and god dammit. So here you go, a little late!  
> Pepper taking care of Clint and Nat, just a bit--more like a handler and a trainer, but again, that's what they need. And Steve's in trouble! Time to go save him. Because Pepper is badass and can do that.

Tony awoke to beeping and a message from Pepper. He yawned and stretched out in bed, reading it carefully and smiling.   
"Love you too, Pep." He murmured, sitting up in bed and looking at Phil. "Hey, Phil? Pep's got Clint and Nat. They're all right."

Coulson grunted in his sleep, the sound of Clint and Natasha's names awakening him enough to respond, though only just.

"Yeah, I'll go make coffee." Tony said, getting out of bed and going to brew himself and Phil a cup before he left.

Coulson sat up in bed, taking the arrowhead and the golden tube out of his pocket to toy with and clench in his closed fist, humming quietly to himself, relief filling his heart like fine wine. Clint and Natasha were all right. Pepper had them. He was...alone but at ease. His darlings were safe.

Tony came back in with coffee and two protein bars. He tossed one to Phil and had the other one gone in two bites, chewing on it lazily as he sipped his coffee. Coulson put away the arrowhead and the tube, but not before Tony saw them and smirked, amused. In response, Phil glared daggers at him before fixing his gaze pointedly on the shield. Tony huffed and drank his coffee, hiding his blush with the edge of his mug.

"Two more days, I think." Coulson said. Tony raised an eyebrow. Phil sighed. "I'd want you out of here by tonight, but you need to make it over the other four village districts of Latveria, and Steve would wring my neck if I overworked you just to get you home. Take the two districts nearest here and report to me the second there's trouble; I'm going to be trailing you in a stealth jet. I'll be there the minute you need me." 

"...All right, fine. Didn't know you could pilot a jet, though." Tony remarked, finishing his coffee and bandaging up his hands for the little bit of protection he could garner from the edges of the armor. Phil shrugged.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. training," he said, "plus, I brushed up on it a little once I realized Fury was probably going to want me to be the one in charge of flying you all around."

"Well, look at it this way; put it on autopilot and it's a good way to get into the Mile High Club with Clint and Nat." Tony said, finishing his coffee.

Phil threw a pillow at his head. Tony caught it, laughing as he made his way down the hall and into the armory, where his suit was being held.

Coulson dressed quickly and buttoned his shirt, tying his tie as he joined Tony in the hallway. The stealth armor made him look so different; it was sleek and shone in shades of obsidian and dark blue, the camo de-activated while they were on base. It molded to his body and had no major weapons or defenses that bulked up the armor; it fit Tony like a second skin. 

"Amazing." Coulson said simply. Tony lifted up his faceplate to grin.

"Thanks, Phil," he said, and the genuine sweetness in his voice let Phil know he meant it, for once, "I'm amazed at how well it came out...even if I have to re-fashion a new set of underarmor just for this suit."

"That's probably the first thing on Steve's priority list," Coulson agreed as they made their way outside and towards the jet, "after taking care of you and tucking you into bed, obviously."

"Figures." Tony chuckled and shut the faceplate before giving Coulson a quick salute and adding, "Bye, Phil!" 

He soared off into the sky and was gone before Coulson could even respond. He just sighed, rolled his eyes, and climbed into the jet, putting his helmet and goggles on and gearing up.

Tony soared over the villages of Latveria, content and bright under the shine of the sun. He forgot that he was in a dictatorial nightmare and that his armor scraped at his skin; the only thing he focused on was the feel of flying and the sky sailing over his armor. 

He soared down through the streets, taking care to avoid people so as not to risk crashing into someone while invisible. That would be strange...funny, maybe, but strange.   
Tony didn't message Steve for a little while; he figured that his darling was probably at S.H.I.E.L.D. at the moment, and he didn't want to bother him quite yet. Plus, if he focused, he could clear this village out in another half hour easy. It was going between villages that was the pain in the ass—the next one was an hour or so away. 

Tony shrugged and smiled. He would have Steve to talk to at least.

...

Steve went through the motions at S.H.I.E.L.D. that day, dividing his time between training recruits and having tests done on him. He hated it more than anything—he felt like a lab rat again, and he couldn't handle it alone; Thor came and sat with him again, and Steve was more grateful than words could express, especially since he knew the god was just as frustrated with being trapped within S.H.I.E.L.D.'s walls as he. Fury had promised them another mission after Tony got back, however, which was something. Steve had tried to ensure it would be a full-team mission, and he had hopefully been successful...

Because it was just Clint and Nat on their own for half the day, Pepper had kissed Bruce's forehead, explained the situation, and promised to go out to eat with him, just the two of them, and then went downstairs to observe Clint and Natasha.

They visibly relaxed when they saw her, smiling brightly and jogging up to her, eyes warm and shining and their heads tilted a little as they watched her. Pepper stroked their hair, as she had seen Phil do, and greeted them quietly, "Hello, dears. Are you ready to train?"

"Yes, Pepper." Natasha replied, inclining her head. "Is there anything you'd like us to cover in particular today?"

"Uh, I..." Pepper faltered, trying not to show just how little she knew of combat styles—she'd have to talk to Steve, if anyone would know it would be either him or perhaps Phil—before telling them, "Clint, you should get back into the swing of things with your archery—your hand's all healed up now, right? And Natasha, you need to work on your stinger accuracy. You'll be using them more now that you're involved in more melee combat, right?"

"I suppose." Natasha agreed. Clint cheered with relief at being allowed his bow again; Pepper's lips quirked up into a smile as he hurriedly pulled it off the rack of weapons and hugged it tight before grabbing his quiver and slinging it over his shoulder. 

She made herself a seat by their spot in the training room and waited. It took her a few minutes of watching them before it suddenly clicked and, quietly, without embarrassing them by calling attention to it, Pepper simply said, "You can start now."

They threw themselves into their training with great gutso after that. Pepper was genuinely impressed; if she thought she had seen Natasha's skills before, they were a glimmer, if that, compared to the way she handled herself in the training room. It was a sight to behold. As was Clint, in all truth, the arrows slicing through the air with soft whines and hitting the targets without fail, his arms rippling with muscle, like there were tigers beneath his skin.  
  
Pepper couldn't help but feel a little pride that Phil had thought she could take care of such regal, beautiful creatures, a little more than human and a lot more powerful. Still, it was clear they needed to be taken care of; it was the way that both of them turned to her expectantly, hungry for praise and approval after a task was completed, or the way that they walked by her side when she went for a cup of coffee, or the way Natasha relaxed so easily when Pepper praised her without warning, or how Clint smiled when she got him a protein bar and told him sternly to eat. She didn't mind, though. They deserved the care, and she enjoyed giving it. After all, what else were friends for?

When they broke for the day, the two of them looked exhausted, shining with sweat and exertion, but smiling brightly. Pepper took one look at them and tsked.

"There's nicer showers back at the mansion," Pepper said, "and it's beginning to get a little late. You've done enough for the day. I'll handle any paperwork you two need to complete; let's just get you showered and cleaned up."

"Do you not need to prepare for a dinner date?" Natasha asked, tilting her head. "We will not intrude upon your time if you require a shower..."

"No, no," Pepper said hastily, "there's like, twenty bathrooms at the mansion, I'm fine. JARVIS will set you two up." A blush flared over her cheeks as something occurred to her. "Would you two rather—"

"We have showered together before on missions, when we were not so lucky to have twenty bathrooms." Natasha said simply, and that was that. It wasn't exactly like Pepper had a leg to stand on, protest-wise. 

She kissed both their foreheads and told them sternly, "Go out to the car, and avoid Fury if you can. I'm going to get Steve and Thor."

They nodded, unwilling to cross Pepper when her expression changed like that. Oh, yes. She was worried for Steve and Thor. And Pepper was bringing fury with her.

The two of them headed to the car and hoped the confrontation would not end too badly. They did not want Pepper hurt.


	79. Lab Rat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is hurt. Pepper is not happy. Neither is anyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always thought the idea that Steve might be forced to have tests run on him interesting. It's brought up in his movie, but they're obviously not addressed, and he moves on to be a showman and stuff. However, SHIELD does not fuck around, and literally everyone wanted to remake the serum. So this is how! By torturing Steve and denying him his rights, hooray.  
> Pepper is a badass, just saying.  
> Also, humans can lose up to two liters of blood before dying; Steve could assumedly lose more, but not much. So he's not dead, but he's seriously ill.  
> Oh and yes, Pepper/Bruce shenanigans soon. I love their little date. <3

Pepper made her way down to the lab very quietly and primly, without much fuss. Her heels clicked lightly on the floor as she typed in the access code and marched in, immediately coming to stand by Thor's side. He looked pensive, and more than a little annoyed.

"They told me they needed to see Steven alone," he explained, "and drove me from the testing room. I did not protest, but..."

"We're going home." Pepper said, anger clear on her face, and Thor brightened up immediately. "Where's Steve?"

"We're keeping him for awhile longer for some more in-depth tests, if that's all right with you, Agent Potts."

Maria Hill was suddenly at her side, her eyes bright and calculating. Pepper did not so much as flinch, her lips pursed and her bearing proud.

"Commander Hill," she said politely, "it's a pleasure. However, no. It is _not_ all right with me. As the acting commander of the Avengers forces, I require Steve to return to the mansion. It's almost eight at night, and he has other things to take care of."

"Surely they can be dealt with later." Maria said, her voice equally polite and gentle. Pepper shrugged.

"Perhaps, but we can't just leave without him, anyway." She said, her voice soft. "After all, we wouldn't want him to get _moved_ , now would we?"

Thor's face went a little paler. Pepper simply met Maria's gaze.

The two women stared at each other for a very long time.

"This is my team." Pepper said, finally. "Thor, go get in the car. _Now_. I'll get Steve."

"No, my lady," Thor said, standing up and coming to her side. "I will go with you to get Steven. You will not go alone."

Maria raised an eyebrow. Pepper simply shrugged, her expression one of carefully crafted neutrality.

"I have Captain Rogers under my command right now." Maria said.

"I have a Hulk." Pepper replied, holding up her phone. "On speed-dial."

Maria was quiet. Thor bit back a chuckle. Pepper simply brushed past her and made her way into the main part of the labs.

Her stomach clenched as she saw Steve, stripped to the waist, wincing in pain as they took blood from him. There were already a good fifteen or sixteen vials of it on the lab table. His arms were bruised and his eyes were full of tears. There were a few scalpels littering the nearby trays, and the steady beep of whatever heart monitors he was hooked up to threatened to drive her mad. He looked like an animal on the table, left to rot.

"Steve?" She called out, trying not to say too much, for fear of her voice cracking. "Steve, honey, it's time to go home."

"Pepper?" Steve whispered. He sounded pained, frightened, and small; her heart broke. "Really? Okay. I wanna go home."

"You will, you will..." Pepper promised, her voice soft and sweet as she made her way to him. Before she could, one of the lab technicians stopped her, standing in front of her and smiling in that simperingly apologetic way that made her want to put her shoe heel through his skull.

"Agent Potts, I'm sorry...we need to keep the Captain here for some testing. If you could leave us to our work..."

He put his hand on her shoulder and began to try to steer her towards the door.

Before Pepper could break his hand or Thor could throw his hammer through his skull, an arrow landed at his feet. It didn't hit him, but it came within a hairsbreadth of doing so; enough that everyone in the room knew it could have very easily pierced him. 

Pepper watched as Clint and Natasha seemed to materialize from the shadows and came to stand in front of her without a word. Natasha very gently lifted the man's hand from her shoulder, in such a way that she could snap his wrist if need be.

"I advise you leave our Pepper alone. Before I make you." Natasha said quietly. "Now, if you would leave her to her work..."

The entire lab was cleared out in less than a minute. Pepper flicked her eyes over to Natasha's; the two knew each other well enough that she smiled at her simple gaze, knowing what it meant.

"Bruce heard they had Steve in the labs and knew to tell us to come get you," Natasha said by way of explanation. "He's in the car."

Pepper nodded, but she had other things to worry about now; namely, the man strapped into the lab chair, his arms dotted with blood that flowed from at least a good ten pinpricks, that was groaning with pain.

"Pep?" Steve said, his voice slurred. Pepper smiled through sudden tears as Clint tossed her Steve's tee shirt. She recognized it as one of Tony's. The tears simply fell a little longer as she crossed the room.

"Hey, Steve honey," she murmured, "time to go home."

"Yeah," Steve agreed, "you gotta date..."

"Yes, I do, and so do you," Pepper said sternly, "Tony's going to want to see you. Hold on to me, Steve. We're getting you out of here."

Thor ripped the straps from the table and threw them aside. Clint and Natasha supported Steve as Pepper hurriedly put the shirt on, trying to ignore the bruises and blood. Steve staggered, swaying on his feet.  
"They took a lotta blood, huh?" Steve said, his eyes glassy and unfocused. Pepper was going to wring someone's neck.

"Yes, they did. We'll get you some Chinese, Steve. You like Chinese, right? Chinese and ice cream. Come on, honey. We can't go get you any of that if you don't get in the car. Come on, honey. Come on." Pepper whispered, cajoling him gently as fear gripped her heart. He looked ill, pale, and wan, and he couldn't walk without Clint and Natasha's support.

She managed to lead them to the car, however, and with a massive sigh of relief, fell right into Bruce's arms and snuggled close. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight as Clint and Thor got in beside them, holding Steve upright as Natasha got into the driver's seat.

"Get us out of here, Nat, for the love of god." Pepper muttered, exhausting gripping her heart. Natasha nodded in agreement, tearing out of the garage and right towards their usual take-out joint to grab Steve food as soon as possible.  
  
The whole way there, Steve was curled up, half in Thor's lap and half in Clint's, trying not to cry or whimper with pain. They could tell he wanted to; a few whimpers of panic or agony when they turned and his bruised, bloodied arms ended up pressed against something were enough to let them know how much he was holding back.

Thankfully, Natasha was both a fast and competent driver, and so they were at the takeout place in ten minutes. Clint traded places with Pepper, getting out to get what they needed as Steve buried his face into Pepper's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "didn't mean to make you go through all this trouble...I'm so sorry, Pepper. Please forgive me."

Pepper smiled to reassure him, kissing his forehead and taking off her jacket, wrapping it around his arm to cushion it.

"There's nothing to forgive, Steve, I promise." She replied, her voice gentle. "You just hang on until we get home, okay?"

He nodded, and finally, just as Clint came back out with their order, Pepper remembered she had a pretty good way to comfort him.

She took out the sunglasses from her pocket and handed them to Thor, who settled them over Steve's face. He smiled.

"I brought them from home," Pepper told him, "figured you'd need them once you were done with the tests. See if he answers, Steve."

"Tony?" Steve mumbled as they headed for home, food in hand. "Tony? I need you. Please?"

There was silence in the car for a second. Then the speaker whirred to life and Pepper wanted to scream with relief.

 _"I'm right here, baby. Just going over another village; the last of the night before I head home. I'll be finishing up tomorrow and maybe home by tomorrow night, even. You okay_?" Tony asked. Even just the sound of his voice made Steve smile and whimper softly with relief.

"Sorta," he replied, "lotta tests today, Tony. Hurt. Lotta blood."

There was silence on the end of the line for a minute. Pepper knew that silence. It was the silence Tony fell into when he was enraged; he was an engineer, and even all his rants were worked out perfectly, every word in place, every tirade functioning smoothly, efficiently, to communicate his rage. Whatever he wanted to say now was going to be good.

" _Okay, you listen to me, and you listen_ good _, Rogers_." Tony snapped. _"You want to make me take care of myself? Good. Fine! But you have to take care of yourself too, then! Don't you_ ever _let them hurt you like that again, Steve, not_ ever _! Do you understand?"_

"Okay, Tony," Steve promised, "okay, for you. For you, Tony. Love you."

 _"I love you too, sweetheart. Please, please don't think you owe Fury more tests. It's your body; they don't have a right to it. You keep yourself safe. I'm gonna be home as fast as I can. Go eat something and call me back, okay?"_ Tony demanded.

Steve nodded and smiled.

"Okay, sweetie," he whispered. "Love you lots."

" _Love you too."_ Tony murmured.

He hung up after that, and they pulled into the garage in silence, helping Steve out of the car and giving him his own separate bag of takeout cartons as they got him into the kitchen.

"We'll watch him," Natasha said as Steve wolfed down the food, "you and Bruce go out, Pep. Please."

"You sure?" Pepper asked. "We can put it off."

"I'd rather you didn't deny yourself something good for our sake." Natasha kissed her forehead. "We'll take care of Steve. You go put on something nice and let Bruce take care of you."

Pepper didn't know what to say, so she just nodded, nuzzling Natasha quickly and making her way upstairs, showering hastily and putting on a sleeker, more elegant skirt and finely tailored jacket, joining Bruce downstairs.

He was still a little ruffled-up, still in a buttondown and slacks, his glasses were a little askew, and he was more beautiful to her in that moment than the thousands of elegantly tailored CEOs who had tried to win her hand.

"You didn't have to get all dressed up..." Bruce murmured. "But you look beautiful, if it matters. Just...you looked beautiful in your other outfit, and I'm pretty sure you'd look beautiful in sweatpants and a tacky Christmas sweater, too."

"I prefer the ripped pants and no shirt look on you, but I can understand why you reserve that for more...special occasions." Pepper teased. Bruce rolled his eyes.

"Yes, like destroying city blocks and levelling buildings." He retorted dryly. Pepper huffed and kissed his cheek.

"I wasn't talking about the Hulk, I was talking about summer attire." She said primly. "You're definitely a summer, not a winter."

"Oh, _god_." Bruce groaned, but he was actually laughing and so was she, and so they walked out arm in arm together to the sounds of Clint gagging and groaning dramatically and Natasha shushing him while trying not to giggle.

Steve and Thor ate heartily, but Thor kept a close eye on his shieldbrother, watching intently to make sure the food was taking effect. Sure enough, his eyes had begun to refocus as he gulped down half a carton of lo mein in two bites, and as he polished off a whole order of sesame chicken by himself, he managed to form a coherent sentence, (admittedly in between bites, but that was understandable.)

Clint and Natasha ate beside them, but they ate far less than both Thor and Steve, seemingly more content to watch Steve return to normal as he ate. Finally, once the bag of Chinese takeout had been thoroughly demolished, Steve leaned back in his chair and smiled up at them, folding his hands over his stomach.

"I'm okay," he said, "promise. Thank you for taking care of me..."

"You do it for us," Natasha reminded him gently, "it's only fair." She looked at the blood still on his arms and suppressed a shudder of fury to smile warmly at him and try to convince him to go take care of himself. "Why don't you go shower, Steve? Clint and I will talk to Phil, and you may have the sunglasses back when you're showered and dressed. Fair?"

"Fine by me." Steve agreed, standing up without shaking or swaying and making his way upstairs easily, heading for Tony's room. They all sighed in relief as they heard the door shut. Natasha picked up the sunglasses and called out, "Phil, darling?"

 _"Nope, sorry; not back at base yet. I'll let you know when I'm near him again._ " Tony promised her. Natasha sighed.

"Thank you, Tony. It's all right; Clint and I will speak to him when we can." She said.

 _"Soon, promise. But, uh, for the moment—how's Steve_?" Tony asked. Natasha smiled. That genuine note of concern and worry in Tony's voice was so rare, but it truly spoke volumes towards the true love Tony had for Steve.

"He's all right. We got some food in him, and he's back to normal. He misses you, as to be expected, but he's awaiting your return very patiently, Tony." Natasha said. Tony sighed.

 _"I know, I know. I'll tell Phil when I get back; if he finds out about this, I bet he'll beat Fury to death with his trading cards himself. Until then, keep him safe, please. I'll be on my way home tomorrow night, though; promise. He'll be back with me before he even knows it. Just...make sure he gets some sleep tonight, okay_?" Tony asked. Natasha chuckled.

"He won't unless you do." She reminded him gently. Tony groaned, which she knew meant he knew full well she was right.

 _"I will, I will. Just...y'know. Keep him safe_." Tony said. Natasha nodded.

"We will," she promised, "now you hurry up and finish your mission. He's in the shower and he wants to speak with you when he's done."

" _Got it_ ,” Tony replied. “ _I’ll get right on it, then. Later, Nat.”_

He hung up and Natasha sighed, taking off the sunglasses. She went upstairs and put them in Tony and Steve's room; they had no need to keep them, and Steve would want to speak to Tony as urgently as possible.

She went back downstairs so quietly that Steve didn't even notice her coming or going, and slipped back into the living room, pecking Clint on the cheek by way of greeting.

“A movie seem like a decent idea to you?” She suggested to the boys. Both Clint and Thor nodded, following her into the living room and settling in on the couch, waiting for Steve to take care of himself and comfort Tony before coming back to them, safe and sound.


	80. Pizza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JARVIS is best AI. The team waits up for Pepper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some fluff and talking. God I love JARVIS. Nothing major to report--a little worn out so I hope the chapter can stand on its own!  
> Seriously though eighty chapters. Goddamn. Thank you to everyone who continues to read this, seriously.

Steve washed off the blood and winced at the numerous pinpricks on his arms. They had needed to take a lot, and he hadn't let them take it from the veins in his thighs—he felt enough like a lab rat as it was when he was stripped to the waist and blatantly ogled by everyone in the room...if he'd had to sit there in briefs and let them touch his thighs, he might've lost it. 

He ran some of the spicy, musky-scented soap that Tony used over his arms and winced as it leaked into the little pinpricks, scrubbing over the skin hastily. He wouldn't have the wounds for much more than a few hours, hopefully; his body healed fast enough. He didn't want Tony to see the wounds and get angry or scared...he had to be strong for Tony.

Steve scrubbed himself down and let warm water run over him for a few minutes as he allowed himself a little fantasy about taking Tony out for a nice date when he got home; they had yet to have an honest-to-goodness-date, and he wanted that more than anything...someplace nice, simple and sweet. He would ask Pepper if she knew any good places for something simple and sweet when she got back. 

He turned off the shower after another five minutes or so of hot water soothing his aching muscles and massaging his battered, bloodied skin, taking another one of Tony's robes after he had toweled off and looking at the bedroom in front of him.

He blinked, surprised, looking at the sunglasses. Someone must have brought them up for him; probably Natasha. She was the only one that good at sneaking around.

Clint, Natasha, and Thor were all downstairs...and they all needed him. He knew that. Clint and Natasha missed Phil like mad. Thor missed his brother—Steve hoped Fury would let him see him again soon...

But he didn't want to talk to Tony with them around; it seemed selfish. He was the only one at the moment who could appreciate his lover's company, and to take that joy and make it public to his friends who weren't so lucky...seemed severely unfair.

So he would go back downstairs soon enough; but only once Tony had gotten back to base and he could share the sunglasses with Phil so that their agent could talk to his lovers. He could not do much about Loki...but he would talk with Thor as Clint and Natasha talked to Phil, and it was something.

Steve smiled, put the sunglasses on, and settled into bed, planning the date out in his head as he called, "Tony?"

...

While Steve showered, Tony had been zipping throughout the last of the village, careening for home and sighing in frustration.

God, he needed to be back there. It was clear Fury wanted to abuse Steve while he was gone; did he think Steve wouldn't resist? He must...and Tony had a sinking feeling he was _right,_ at least a little, because Steve sure as hell hadn't today. Plus, he knew Steve—Fury was his superior. He obeyed.

Tony comforted himself with the fact that he would be there to tend to Steve soon enough, but not even that was enough, and as he finished up his intel and made it back to base, Phil knew it. The agent guided Tony inside without a word, checking him over for injuries as the suit fell away from Tony and back into the open briefcase Phil held. 

Tony went back into his room, grabbed his sunglasses and settled in on the bed. Phil knew then that he would be all right, but all the same, he'd rather go grab Tony some dinner as well—just to make sure.   
He let Tony have a moment alone with Steve as he went to go get food for the both of them, shutting the door quietly as Tony picked up his phone.

 _"Tony_?" Steve's voice was in his ear as soon as he turned on his phone, and Tony smiled, content.

"Hi, babe." Tony said. He took out his phone and typed out, " _You feeling any better?_ "

Back in their room, Steve smiled and snuggled into the covers, nuzzling the pillow.

"Yep," he said, "much better. We went and had Chinese, and I got a bag full of takeout all to myself! I like feeling full. I'm...still not used to it, honestly." He confessed with a blush and a shy wince. 

_"Sweetheart, ssh. Don't feel bad. I can hear you getting nervous. You know I can afford whatever food you'd like, honey, whenever you need it. Just ask JARVIS to call a place that delivers."_ Tony promised him. He knew it might be a tad hypocritical to worry so much about Steve's food intake, all things considered, but if it comforted Steve to know he could order out whenever he needed it, he didn't give a shit.

"Really? Oh, thank god. I'm...well, I'm hungry again. They took about three liters of my blood—I can handle more blood loss because of the serum, but..." Steve whimpered and hugged the pillow. He felt a little ridiculous having a freakout like this, but Tony would listen, Tony would understand, Tony wouldn't make fun of him, Tony loved him...

"Tony, it _hurt_! It hurt a lot and they wanted me to take my pants off, and I was really scared, but I didn't want to look like an idiot or not be helpful, but—they were watching me and it made me really nervous, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—I didn't take my pants off, promise!" Steve defended himself. "You're the only one allowed to see any of that, I promise! I...I wouldn't do that to you..."

Tony gripped his phone so tight he would've worried the screen would crack, had he not been lost in a blind rage.

" _Steve,"_ he typed, feeling more and more interested in going back home and beating Nick Fury's head in the more he typed, " _order a fucking pizza. Order two. Order_ twenty _. I can afford it. Also? Do not, I repeat,_ do not _think I give a shit if someone else sees you without your pants on. You know what I'm more concerned about? The fact that they tried to force you to do it. You eat your twenty pizzas and then go to bed. You're hurt and I'm fucking going to_ murder _Fury when I get back."_

"I'm fine now..." Steve promised. "They wanted to use my main arteries in my thighs, but I didn't let them. I know it's my body, Tony. I...I'm not a lab rat..."

 _"No you're not. You're my boyfriend and I love you. A lot. More than the suit. More than...more than, well, anything."_ Tony swallowed, aware of the truth suddenly hitting him right square in the face. 

Steve sat there in silence for a minute.

 _"Sir? I've placed an order for pizzas and two bottles of soda. They'll be here in fifteen minutes_." JARVIS said, interrupting the silence. Steve blinked.

"I didn't ask for those, JARVIS." Steve said.

" _No, sir. But you needed them._ " JARVIS said simply. 

_"Good AI. Best computer. Make sure he eats them, JARVIS._ " Tony said.

" _Only if you'll eat, sir_." JARVIS responded. Steve heard Tony groan and he couldn't help but smile. 

_"Fine, fine. I'll eat. Phil's coming back with dinner soon. You're gonna give the glasses to Clint and Nat, I assume?"_ Tony said. Steve nodded.

"Yes, I am. They miss him. I'll eat while they talk, and you eat too, okay? Then we'll talk until we fall asleep. And then...tomorrow night..." Steve trailed off, smiling. Tony laughed, low and soft and warm in Steve's ear. 

_"Tomorrow night, I'll be in bed beside you. Promise. And I won't let S.H.I.E.L.D. run any more tests on you, okay? You're not a lab rat. You're our leader and my hero. I'll make sure they don't hurt you._ " Tony promised. Steve nodded, clenching the sunglasses, his hands shaking.

"Of course, sweetheart. I'll protect you, too. No one will ever hurt you as long as I'm here." Steve promised. 

There was a silence in the room that ached to be filled with something, but before it could, the doorbell rang. 

Still, the soft smile Steve sent to Tony's phone, the picture popping up as he murmured, "Going downstairs, darling. Love you." was enough to make Tony grin helplessly and reply in return, "I love you, too," and that made something new and beautiful in place of the silence well enough.

Steve left the room, only remembering to tie his robe just in time, opening the door to accept the twenty pizzas and two bottles of soda JARVIS had ordered, the very confused delivery boy saying something about how the payment had already been charged and bolting. JARVIS really did think of everything.

He went back into the living room with the others and handed Clint and Natasha the sunglasses and a pair of earpieces. They sighed with relief, Natasha putting the glasses on, and Steve settled in on the couch beside Thor, sharing a slice of pizza with the god as he devoured the rest, slugging back half a soda bottle in one go. 

Clint took a piece of pizza just as Natasha called out, "Phil?"

Back at base, Coulson had just got in from the mess hall, two trays of food in his hand. He almost dropped them at the sound of her voice enamating from Tony's phone. Thankfully, he steadied himself, but Tony noticed his shaking hands as he set the tray down in front of him and took the sunglasses from him. 

He put them on and called back, his voice aching with tender relief, "Hello, Natasha. I've missed you and Clint, darlings."

Tony gestured to his phone. Phil nodded, taking his own out and hooking it up to the glasses as Tony began to eat. He didn't want to eat—it didn't help that he was used to eating far better quality food when he did remember to eat—but then he remembered his promise to Steve and swallowed it all dutifully. Phil picked at his, too unwilling to lose precious time in which he could talk to his lovers.  
  
"We missed you too," Natasha said, "are you all right?"

 _"Yes, making Tony eat, the usual_." Phil typed. " _Pepper taking good care of you?"_

"Mhm. She and Bruce are out on a date—we told her she ought to go. Thor and Steve are with us, and we are in the mansion. We are safe." Natasha promised. Phil sighed with relief.

 _"Good, that's good_." He replied. " _What happened with Steve today?"_

"It was..." Natasha sighed. "I do not know, Phil. S.H.I.E.L.D. wishes to run tests. And without you and Tony there to look after him and make sure he is not doing anything to himself that he would not be allowed to do normally, were you two there..."

"What did he ask?" Steve said, tilting his head. Natasha shook her head.

"He just wanted to know what happened with the tests." Natasha said. Steve nodded.

"All right," he said, "let him know Maria was the one to suggest them—she said something about the need for bloodwork to be completed, or something like that." 

Natasha relayed the message to Phil. He was very quiet for a minute.

 _"Damn her,_ " he snapped, “ _do_ not _let him go back into that lab tomorrow, am I clear? They’ll harvest half his organs before I get back!_ ”

“Phil says you’re not to go into the lab tomorrow, Steve.” Natasha said. Steve nodded, taking another slice of pizza.

“Fine by me,” he said, swallowing the slice in two huge bites, “I wanted to go back to training. You two have taught me a lot the past few days.”

“Thank you, Steve. I’ll let Fury know you’ll be training with us.” Natasha said. “Did you get all that, Phil?”

Phil massaged his temples and nodded, biting his lip and steadying himself for a second before he typed in what he wanted to badly to tell them face to face, if he only could.

_“Yes, I did. Between you two and Pepper, he should be safe. Please...god, you two stay safe. I can’t lose either of you. Am I clear?”_

“Crystal, Phil.” Natasha said. “Are you all right?”

 _“I’m fine,”_ he replied _, “truth be told, though, I’m exhausted. Spent most of today flying around Latveria. Thinking about you two. We’re going to go out tomorrow if I get home in time. Someplace nice. Promise.”_  
Natasha and Clint both smiled. 

“All right, love.” Natasha replied. “But perhaps it would be better if you rested? I mean, after all, there is no sense in going out to dinner if you are exhausted and incoherent from a lack of sleep.”

 _“I want to sleep beside you two,”_ he responded, and they could both practically hear the grumble in his voice even through the text, “ _but...all right. Give Steve the glasses back. I’ll rest, I promise. You two get some sleep too. Love you both.”_

“Love you too, Phil.” They chorused. 

Natasha handed Steve the sunglasses as Clint pulled out the couch-bed. The two of them flopped down on it as Steve and Thor perched on the other couch, amused at the little nest that Clint and Natasha set up.

“Tony?” Steve called out.

Tony settled the sunglasses over his eyes and grinned, watching Phil lie down and kick off his shoes, pulling the covers over himself and closing his eyes. He edged a little closer to the agent. He knew he wasn’t exactly the weight or warmth of Clint and Natasha, but he was better than nothing, and the soft whine of thanks he received from the exhausted agent was good enough.

 _“Hey babe.”_ Tony typed. “ _Did you eat?”_

“I’m on pizza number six, so yes.” Steve said, grinning. “God, I’m starved. I didn’t think I would eat so much...but that was a lot of blood.”

 _“Yeah. It was. And I’m not fucking happy about it_.” Tony replied. Steve sighed.

“Darling, I’m all right,” he said, “and Natasha and Clint are going to be sparring with me tomorrow, so I’ll be safe. Calm down, okay? You’ll be back home tomorrow night and we’ll take care of each other. Promise.”

 _“Okay.”_ Tony paused before adding, “ _You want me to go to bed, don’t you?”_

“Well, it’s a little earlier in Latveria, but you could definitely use the sleep.” Steve said. “Or maybe you could work on a blueprint for the underarmor?”

“ _Not a bad idea. I’ve got a tablet, I’ll start working. Primitive in regards to my tech at home, but not bad for a rough draft. You go to bed, Cap. It’s almost eleven there. You’ve had a rough day."_ Tony soothed him. Steve smiled.

"Okay, sweetheart. Thor and I are gonna watch a movie for a little bit before bed, though, so if you need me...just message me." Steve blew him a kiss. "I love you."

 _"Love you too, captain cutie pie_." Tony teased, laughing quietly at the sputters of indignation he heard over the other end of the line. He took out his tablet and lifted up the sunglasses, working on the underarmor with Phil sleeping beside him, warm and content.

Steve and Thor watched The Wizard of Oz for awhile. Neither of them wanted to go to bed until Pepper was home; they had to make sure she and Bruce were all right.


	81. Dinner Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper and Bruce go on a date. So does the other guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another interim Pepper/Bruce chapter; you won't miss any plot if you skip this, but I'm quite fond of this little date. I hope you are too!  
> Also, first time writing the Hulk. In the comics, how much he can actually communicate varies, though the original Lee/Kirby duo had him actually using complete sentences! And sarcasm! So...I kinda cobbled together a bit of everything. I hope it's passable.

Pepper was all right.

For a given definition of all right, of course.

They hadn't gone to one of her normal flashy restaurants, because if the gossip magazines caught wind of her dating Bruce, that would be more trouble than it was worth. Technically, he was still supposed to be in hiding...and who knew still remained on his tail.

Still, it was a nice little place—a small hole-in-the-wall in Little Italy, and the lack of double-takes of recognization told her it was safe. A few gazes lingered, due to her outfit, but little else. Bruce, to his credit, was a gentleman despite his clear nervousness; he pulled out her chair, guided her into her seat, and made sure she was comfortable before he met her eyes, clearly panicked.

Pepper put a warm hand over his and massaged the skin of his hand soothingly, looking up at him.

"Hey," she said gently, "we can leave if you're not ready. If you're not up to this, I understand, I swear."

"N-no. I want..." Bruce inhaled. "I want to be here with you. I want...I want to go on dates. I want to be a good boyfriend. I swear. I mean—I can't—you know how being an Avenger is, we're busy more often than not, and I—I didn't want you to feel unwanted. It's been a hectic few days."

"I know, dear," Pepper reminded him, her voice gentle. "I wasn't taking it as a sign that you wanted to leave. I wouldn't have slept with you if I thought that. I'm aware of the risks and the sacrifices—I've lived with Tony for most of my adult life. This isn't easy. And that's why I'm so grateful you're doing this. It means...more than you know."

"You deserve it, though." Bruce said, smiling nervously. "I mean...uhm." He was blushing. Pepper knew exactly why and privately thought it adorable.

"I just...you know. He's...not...and I'm not...well, this is a small place. I'd rather not level it because I get huffy if the service takes an hour." Bruce remarked. Pepper shook her head.

"We both know you won't, so please don't worry. You're more under control than that." Pepper shrugged. "Besides, I think I could keep you calm."

"G-god, you make me anything _but_ calm." Bruce said. Pepper raised an eyebrow. He blushed even brighter.

"I d-didn't mean it that way," he said hastily, "I swear. I just meant, uh...well." He tugged at his tie and adjusted his glasses.

"You make my heart hurt and my head pound, and—there's passion there, passion and I—I don't really know how to keep passion calmed because it feels so, _so_ good, and I don't want to lock it away like I do with everything else, I want to let myself feel it, and with you I can't do anything else _but_ feel, and it's so much...passion, I mean, and warmth, and...I love it. I do. But it's something I can't control, and that means he might—"

Pepper cut him off with a kiss.

"Ssh," she whispered as they pulled away, "darling, ssh. I can help you. I promise. I know all about control. You can have that passion. I won't let it hurt you. I can protect you. Just trust me."

He did. And that trust was enough to keep him calm, enough to keep him smiling, and enough to force him away.

But Bruce knew the signs at this point. Sometimes he was stronger, and he could keep him at bay. And then there were the times where he was weak, for one reason or another, and he could slip through.

He knew the Hulk was coming. He just didn't know _when._

The difference between this time and all the other waiting times, however, was that he was determined to hold on and enjoy this moment for as long as he could.

So he held Pepper's hand under the table and ordered himself dinner and talked to her about books and cooking and things that made him calm, soothed his heart and relaxed his mind. But the sight of her smiling and laughing alone was enough to stir up passion in him and make his heart race. 

A growl rose up from deep within him. 

Bruce ignored it, ordering them another bottle of wine. They were walking home anyway. 

Pepper smoothed her skirt and sighed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Bruce looked up at her, tilting his head. Concern was clear on his face as he reached out to stroke her cheek, touching her for the briefest of instants before pulling away.

"You okay?" He asked, and he knew she wasn't, but she was so grateful he asked. She shook her head and sighed.

"I'm so worried about Steve." She licked her lips and bit the inside of her mouth. "Not just...not just because he's my friend. And not just because I know what Tony will say when he gets back. But because...oh, _Bruce_ —if they're willing to hurt _Captain America_ for their own ends and purposes—what would they do to _you_?'' She bit back a sob. Her obvious pain made him bare his teeth a bit, and from deep within him, there was a snarl. Pepper continued on after steadying herself, but her hand had come to rest on Bruce's.

"God—you could—they could—lock you up someplace where I'd never see you, you could be _taken_ from me, what about that serum, what if they wanted to _breed you_ , what if they wanted to _kill_ you, _tame_ you, _hurt_ you—they _would_ , I mean—I'd never thought they would but they _could_ and I'm just so fucking scared I'm going to _lose you_ , I don't _want to_ , please—"

Bruce got up and led her outside for a minute, holding her quietly on the sidewalk, her tears soaking into his suit jacket. He shushed her, stroking her hair. Pepper trembled in his embrace, completely without fear or restraint, and he loved her for that. He rejoiced in her trust, revelled in it.

"They won't hurt me," Bruce promised, "hush, my love, they wouldn't dare. They can't go toe to toe with the big guy and they know it. They won't breed me, I won't let them. They can't kill me. And nothing and no one could ever tame me except for you." 

Pepper was silent after that.

"If I tame you," she promised, "it's with a gentle hand and a careful touch and nothing else. I promise."

He opened his mouth to cry out, but nothing left his lips. She kissed him instead.

"You've been hurt before," she said as she pulled away, "it's all right. You don't need to say anything. Just stay calm. I'm here."

He wanted to tell her everything; he wanted to spill his guts about his father and let himself go and absolve himself in her eyes. But not right now. Right now, he wanted to have a date. A warm date by candlelight in a safe, soft place.

Bruce took her hand and kissed it.

"We should go back inside," he finally said, "they'll be wanting to bring out our orders soon."

Pepper nodded, following him back inside to finish up their date. Their hands remained interwound, the pulses in their thumbs beating in unison, the skin of their palms brushing together softly, their fingers cradling each other, taking solace and comfort from the others' touch.

...

Dinner went... _well._

He wasn't sure how the hell it did, but it _did_. They just...talked. Nothing more was said about S.H.I.E.L.D. or him or the life they led. They just talked about cats and art and the way Pepper liked her soup in the winter and their favorite movies. They got coffee afterwards—well, Bruce got tea, but he made Pepper's coffee for her, smiling—and talked until they realized they were the last ones in the restaurant. They paid for everything with sheepish grins, heading out the door and walking underneath the stars on the silvery pavement. 

Eventually, he took her hand.

Before long, she squeezed back in response.

He could feel him at the forefront of his mind. Bruce didn't know why. He wasn't angry. He was happier than he'd ever been, in fact. Delirious with bliss. Intoxicated with reality and the passion of his new life, and Pepper, and—

He put her hand on his chest and let her feel his heart beat. She smiled, but he was counting beats slowly, and his eyes widened with understanding and panic.

He would not hurt her. He _could not._ There was no hurt in his mind, no instinct to destroy—surprising, but Bruce wasn't going to dwell on it. No...the Hulk was after something else. And all the control in the world couldn't stop him.

"Pepper," he whispered, "if you need to, _run_."

"Never," she said, and with that, she pulled him into a kiss, all teeth and tongues and passion, and oh, god she knew, she had to know, no one sane would kiss him like that and not expect—

When she pulled away, he was turning green.

Pepper did not back away any more than just enough to give the Hulk some space. She did not run. She did not turn away. She just watched.

Eventually, he was looking at her, aware of her presence. He was.. _.large_. Pepper did not so much as tense. He grunted by way of greeting.

"Hulk scary?" He asked.

"Seen worse," Pepper said. "I'm not scared; I'm a little concerned, actually. I mean, why did you interrupt our moment? Bruce has been good to you. That doesn't seem fair." 

"Curious," the Hulk replied, "interested. We share mind. His part of mind all made up of you. Strange. Hulk want to understand."

"...Okay," Pepper said, nodding in agreement, trying not to think of how she was discussing her love life with her boyfriend's monster alter ego. "Fair enough. I...I don't know what there is to explain. I...I like him. A lot." She flapped her hands a little nervously, shaking her head. The Hulk actually seemed to be listening to her, though; he had not so much as roared, and his eyes looked focused upon her, his head tilted a little. Pepper felt at license to ramble, and so she did.

"I mean, he's sweet and nice and he makes me laugh and he remembers I like green tea ice cream and he cuddles me, and I haven't been held by a man in years and years, Tony and I felt more like we were choking each other, I mean, but with him I'm not scared of being lost or smothered, and—" She stopped. "And I guess I love him."

"Good." The Hulk said. He actually looked sort of satisfied. "But Hulk want you to understand now, too. Bruce and I same. Not two people. One."

Pepper rolled her eyes and massaged her temples, sighing heavily. It was damn near impossible to escape this lecture from any superhero, it seemed.

"Yeah, I've heard the same thing from Tony, Iron Man and him are one, whatever. You're the Hulk and Bruce is Bruce. You might share, but you're not...the same. If you were the same, you wouldn't _have_ to share." She said. The Hulk blinked. He looked like he was actually considering something, somewhere deep in his mind.

"Still share," he said, "Bruce and I share, which means sometimes it my turn. That scare you?"

Pepper shrugged, unbuttoning her jacket before looking up at him.

"Not really, no. You're an Avenger, which means you're probably not going to break Harlem again. Not on purpose, anyway. So no, I'm not particularly scared, and so long as you're not hurting him...I don't mind." Pepper said. "So long as it's, y'know, not during "private time." There is no sharing during private time." 

The Hulk actually laughed. Pepper's knees were shaking, but she had to laugh too. 

"Look, as long as you don't think I'm a threat, I won't think you're a threat either." Pepper promised. "You've saved Bruce before, haven't you? And you've learned from him. You're still learning from him, and honestly, so am I. So...I don't mind if we share. So long as you don't hurt him. I will bring the wrath of all that I am on you if you hurt him."

"Tch," the Hulk sniffed, "all _you_ are is puny human."

"Correction; puny human with a lot of missiles. Missiles designed just for you." Pepper said. The Hulk grunted. Pepper just grinned and pointed at him, giving him a sharp look.

"So; we're going to share Bruce, all right? And we're going to be _gentle_ with him? Very gentle and loving, _right?_ " She asked, meeting his gaze.

The Hulk growled, and for a minute, Pepper panicked, wondering if she had gone too far. It had been worth it, though. For Bruce's sake, if nothing else. If she could make his life with the Hulk even a little bit easier, more comfortable, she _would,_ but—oh _god._

"...All right," the Hulk said, and she relaxed immediately, sighing with relief. "But Hulk not like it."

"You're still learning." Pepper said pleasantly. "I'm glad we had this discussion, but can you let Bruce go? I've got to figure out a way to get him home shirtless now."

"Tell everyone it "private time." They leave you alone." The Hulk said.

"Yeah, they probably wouldn't dare ask." Pepper agreed. 

The Hulk nodded, before putting a hand against her cheek. His hand was big enough that his fingers could've easily curved around over her head and caved it in with ease, but his touch was careful, and she leaned in a little closer, trusting.

"Hulk curious," he said, "curious to see what would make Banner lose focus. Hulk understand now. Hulk agree with Banner."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Pepper murmured, feeling the pulse of the Hulk's thumb against her skin and sighing contentedly.

"Was," the Hulk agreed, before the hand holding her head shrunk and cupped her cheek as the owner of said hand collapsed into her arms.

Pepper wrapped an arm around Bruce and kissed the top of his head.

"Hello, sweetheart," she said, "are you all right?"

"Oh my _god_ ," Bruce moaned, utterly distraught, "did he hurt you? He didn't hurt you, did he? I'll _murder him_ if he did. Somehow. I don't _care_ how. Are you hurt, Pepper?"

"No, no. We just talked." Pepper promised, kissing his forehead, gentle and soothing. Bruce relaxed a little, but she could still feel him tensing up underneath her touch. She sighed and kissed his forehead.

"Bruce, listen to me. He was fine. _You_ were fine. You didn't hurt me. No one hurt me. I threatened him with some missiles and told him we needed to have our private time. And I think he sort of liked me." Pepper paused. "Well, as much as the Hulk can ever like anyone, anyway."

Bruce was quiet for a minute.

"I heard what you said," he murmured, "before, I mean. About why."

"I meant it." Pepper said, toying with a few of his curls.

He tilted his head up and kissed her, making her moan lightly, wrapping an arm around his waist for support. His touch was gentle as he nuzzled her lips a little and sucked on her tongue, warm and eager and loving. She shifted from foot to foot, getting just as eager as him as she deepened the kiss.

"I knew you did," Bruce whispered as they broke away, "and I figured I could just let you know—that, you know, I knew. I'll never forget, either."

"It's all right," Pepper promised, "if you forget, somehow, I'll remind you. I'll always remember. I mean—you're right here to remind me, right?"

"Right," Bruce agreed, his throat suddenly dry, "right, yes, forever. I—" 

He suddenly stopped and realized then that he was shirtless. His face flared red and he choked, embarassed. Pepper grinned, nuzzling his bare shoulder and kissing it.

"You'd think I'd be used to this," he grumbled, "but I'm not, I'm really not."

Pepper just handed him her jacket so they could hail a taxi without having to field a set of increasingly awkward questions for the rest of the night.

The two of them headed home and walked up the driveway in silence. There was something that needed to be said, and they both knew it; however, they needed to find the words to do it.

"He didn't scare me, and neither do you. And you never will." Pepper finally said. "It's okay to lose your focus around me. I can handle you being a little unfocused."

"I'll try to be careful," Bruce murmured, "but to tell you the truth, you make it easy to focus; I was wrong. It's just...all my focus has to be on _you_."

Pepper had been wooed by plenty of suitors hoping to get closer to Tony over the course of almost fifteen years of her life, but nothing had ever made her blush like that.

It was probably because he meant it.

He carried her upstairs after that, so gentle in his strength, so loving in his tight grip, and Pepper barely had time to yell downstairs that she was home and they could go to bed before her mouth was promptly covered with another and all her focus went right to kissing.


	82. Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper and Bruce talk. Doom plans. Steve trains. One day more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THAT SCENE in the Avengers with that goddamn cradle still makes me cry every goddamn time. You don't even know. And TECHNICALLY I suppose the radiation would make Bruce sterile? IDK. He managed to have kids in the comics so I guess they just do not give a fuck. Therefore, neither do I!  
> Before anyone worries--no, no fanbabies. Ever. I am not fond of them. They have to be written very, very well for me to like them at all.  
> And dun dun dun, Doom-related drama. You'll find out that soon enough.

Steve laid in bed that night, content. Tony had fallen asleep, and he was snuggled up in their room, safe and sound. Tony would be home tomorrow, and things would be all right. 

He slept on, unawares someone else had a different idea in mind.

Back in Latveria, all was quiet. Even the castle loomed in silence. The man within, for once, was silent as well; he had sunk into himself and turned his rage inward, to hone it as a vicious weapon.

Victor von Doom was not a man that appreciated being slighted. Not by his allies, and certainly not by his enemies. Anthony Stark was a worthy enemy, to be sure, but an enemy still.

Victor clenched the wrought-iron goblet in his hand until it bent and buckled under his grip. No, Anthony Stark's little slight could not pass by without incident. The fool still soared about his kingdom cavalierly—a blatant challenge. 

Doom would allow it no longer. One way or another, Anthony Stark would be dealt with. 

He retired to his chambers to plan.

...

Tony awoke the next morning and smiled, content. Today would be his last day in this rotten hellhole. Then it was back to America—and, more importantly, back into Steve's arms, where he could be warm and safe.

Tony woke Phil gently, watching the agent stir, blinking blearily and grunting in protest at the light pouring through the window of their dorm. Tony just grinned.

"You're going home to them today," he promised, and that was enough to wake Phil immediately and have him bolting half-naked for his clothes, yanking his slacks and shirt on, pulling his suit jacket on as he knotted his tie and yelled for Tony to hurry up if he wanted coffee before he left.

Tony couldn't help but laugh as he grabbed his briefcase, making his way through the hallways of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s base to the cafeteria, accepting the cup of coffee Phil shoved into his hands and downing it in two sips. The relief and excitement on the other agent's face was plain, (well, for Phil, anyway), and it was infectious. Tony smiled the whole way to the jet as he suited up.

"Be careful," Phil finally reminded him, his voice stern, "I won't have Steve chewing me out because you were an idiot at the last minute and got yourself injured, Tony."

"I will be, I will be, I promise." Tony said, giving him a quick smile before he shut the faceplate and started up the jetboots. Phil sighed and climbed into the jet, soaring off with Tony beside him.

For a time, there was no trouble. Tony soared about the skies and towards the villages he had left, content. 

He thought of messaging Steve for a minute before deciding against it; he would surprise his lover with his presence tonight, make him shocked at his return. He wanted to see the look on Steve's face when he came in unannounced, roses in hand. Steve was a traditionalist; he'd flip for roses.

Tony grinned like a soppy, lovesick fool, (which he _was_ , not that he'd ever admit it), and spurred himself on a little faster, pushing himself forward. The faster he got the intel done on these two villages was the faster he got home to Steve. That was all that was really on his mind.

...

Back in America, Steve awoke and showered, getting ready for the day. He was hoping to take Tony out to dinner, at least, if he got home early enough; if not, he and Tony would make a run for ice cream, at the very least. Then he would cuddle his love up in bed and feed it to him, in that way that got ice cream smeared all over Tony's pretty, warm lips, so Steve could kiss him clean and snuggle him fiercely until he fell asleep.

Blinded by romance, Steve sighed with delight and leaned against the shower tiles. 

_"Sir, when you are done with your fantasizing, I believe the others are awaiting you downstairs. You are going back to train with Clint and Natasha today, are you not?_ " JARVIS said. _"I know if you go back into those labs, neither Tony nor I will be very pleased."_

"No, no. I'll be training with Clint and Nat, I promise." Steve said warmly. "Could you brew me some coffee, JARVIS? I'd like to be prepared to rush out the door.”

 _“Certainly, Captain._ ” JARVIS said. He let Steve shower in peace after that, which he did quickly, eager to get the day over with so he could come home and await Tony’s arrival.

Steve toweled off and put on a pair of pants; sleek, flexible training pants in a shade of slate grey, and his ever-present faded blue Dodgers shirt. He padded downstairs in bare feet, greeting the others with a smile. Clint and Natasha looked as eager as he, perched on the cusp of their Coulson’s arrival, but...there was something else behind their eyes as well.

“Clint? Natasha?” Steve said, making them both jump slightly before turning to look at him. “Are you two ready for training today?” He asked politely. The two of them looked at each other.

“...Yes,” Natasha said finally, “but we have a question.” 

“Okay, shoot.” Steve said warmly, sipping his coffee and taking a bite of his apple.

“Could Pepper and Thor train with us as well? Thor needs to stretch his legs, and as for Pepper, I do not find her up to sufficient standards to protect herself. I would like to rectify this.” Natasha said. Bruce growled quietly.

“She doesn’t need to protect herself, she’s got _me_ ,” he snapped, “and she won’t be fighting anyway!”

“Just because I know I have Phil and Clint beside me does not mean I shirk my training and forego the talent I possess in combat.” Natasha reminded him. “And you cannot know she is not going to be asked to fight, Bruce; not anymore. Not with the way things are going.”

Bruce shook his head, but before he could find further words to protest, Pepper’s hand was on his shoulder, soothing and gentle.

“They’re right, dearest,” she said softly, “and I can’t risk being in a fight and having no experience. Better to learn something I’ll never use than to not have the knowledge when I need it.” She kissed his cheek. “Besides, you can’t protect me all the time. Sometimes I get to protect you.”

“I can try...” Bruce sighed, “but all right, I get it. You four take good care of her—please. I’ll be in the lab all day, trying to see what the hell’s going on with Steve’s bloodwork, but...Pep, if you get hurt...”

“I’ll take care of myself and let you know when I’m done,” Pepper promised, “or if I need you. Promise.”

“Fair enough, then.” Bruce agreed, giving her a quick kiss. “I suppose I can’t stop you, can I?” He teased lightly. Pepper grinned and nuzzled his cheek.

“Oh my god, you’re both disgusting,” Clint grumbled, but he was smiling a little, and he didn’t say anything when Pepper pecked him on the forehead lightly. 

The team finished their breakfast and headed off to base. Steve had his sunglasses on him, but for the moment, they were in his pocket. Tony hadn’t tried to message him yet, but all the same—he’d keep them close. You could never know. 

...

The drive to S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't take too long; Pepper cut through traffic quickly and herded them all inside, dropping Bruce off at the lab and then taking them all down to the training room. She had gotten incredibly efficient at this point, seeming more like a mother herding her children through the grocery store than anything. 

She set up the training room's punching bags for Steve, rolled out mats for Natasha and Thor, and finally kicked off her shoes, shrugged off her jacket and stood there in loose pants and a tank top. Steve blinked.

"You're a little shorter without the heels." He remarked. Pepper huffed.

"I like being taller than Tony." She explained. "But I can't wear them forever, right?"

"No, but _he_ could always wear heels..." Steve ventured. Pepper snickered.

"Could you honestly imagine him doing it, though? I mean...he might for _you_ , maybe, but then he would run with it because he's _Tony,_ and then we'd end up dragging him home from a charity function because he decided to wear slingback fire-engine red fuck-me pumps with his suit. So I'd rather we just...headed that off at the pass." Pepper said.

"Fire-engine red _what_?!" Steve said, his face as red as the aforementioned fire-engine. Pepper patted him on the shoulder.

"When you're older." She told him. 

Steve was seriously getting sick of everyone forgetting he was older than some of their fathers. At least in regards to things he really wanted explained.

He let it be, though, because sparring came first. He went with Thor for a little while, the two of them trading off blows on one of the punching bags designed specifically to withstand the two of them. Even then, they had it knocked clean off the wall in fifteen minutes. Still, the feeling of exercising and letting all of his worries and anticipation and excitement and nervousness go free was exhilirating, and Steve was smiling as he hooked up another bag and they started up again.

He liked sparring with Thor; the god was one of the few people that could give him a good fight, and it meant that all his focus was centered solely around squaring off against him, especially considering how large the god was compared to him. One blow was enough to knock the wind out of him. So Steve focused more on his agility and dodging, trying to avoid Thor rather than take him on directly. 

Across the room from them, Clint and Natasha were guiding Pepper through stances and katas. She picked up on it quickly enough, and while her form was good, the truth was that she didn't have nearly as much strength to put behind her blows as Natasha or Clint. Regardless, they put her through the paces until she could practice the stances and blows on her own, observing her and correcting her form whenever necessary.

"Not bad," Natasha said, putting a hand on her shoulder as Pepper groaned with exhaustion, "I think you ought to rest now, Pepper."

"M'fine, m'fine...but I gotta agree." She said, sinking onto the bench and sighing. "Christ, how do you two do this?"

"Years of practice." Natasha replied. "For just starting out, you did very well. You're a quick learner. It's a matter of building up your muscles and no more." She stroked Pepper's hair comfortingly. "Please don't worry. We'll do this more often so that you may get stronger. Will that help?"

"Yeah, but my body won't thank you for it the morning after." Pepper remarked dryly, taking the bottle of water Clint offered and chugging half of it. Natasha chuckled.

"It will grow to like it in time." She promised. "I'll talk to Phil about what a good regimen for you would be. He knows more about limits than we do."

"You two really do push yourselves hard." Pepper said, looking at them both. "Not too hard, got it?"

"We wouldn't know how to stop." Natasha confessed. "That is what you and Phil are for, remember?"

Pepper kept looking at her for a minute.

Then she sighed and hugged the other woman tight, ruffling her hair before settling her and Clint down onto the bench.

"Yeah, you've had enough for a little while." She said gently. "Rest and get something to eat. Phil will have my hide if he comes home to the two of you looking like a wreck."

The two of them both nodded in agreement and sat, content, while Pepper went to go check on Bruce, leaving Steve and Thor to work their troubles and loneliness out on each other.

...

Pepper liked that half the lab techs scattered when they saw her come in, and the other half fled with them upon seeing whom she was going to speak with. That was good. That meant that, from now on, even if Phil wasn't here, they would fear her wrath, and so leave her team alone. 

She kissed Bruce's cheek and made him jump, startled out of his work. Pepper grinned by way of greeting as he pulled a chair up for her and the two sat at his lab table. 

"So..." Pepper said, gesturing to the vials of blood. Bruce frowned and adjusted his glasses.

"Truth be told, biochemistry is not my field, but I don't know where Hank Pym is, and I'm not about to find him just to drag him into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s clutches." Bruce grumbled. "I managed to piece together a little of what they had in the files, though, and comprehend it."

"Congrats, but...what does it _mean_ , then? Did they...find anything?" Pepper asked, unsure of how to word her question without anyone else catching on to the underlying meaning. Bruce sighed.

"They're just trying to synthesize a formula from it using Erskine's old notes and Steve's blood. Nothing new; that's what they've wanted since Steve was created. But..." Bruce bit at his lip a little. "I don't...like this."

"What, do you think they want something more?" Pepper asked. Bruce frowned and took out a notebook, scribbling down something and passing it to her. Pepper read it quickly, her hair falling over the notebook and obscuring the words to any prying eyes.

 _"I'm afraid they might want to find out at some point if the serum is genetic, like they seem to have wanted from the Hulk. Or at the very least, in my case, if my children would be receptive to gamma radiation...so perhaps they want to see if Steve's children would be more genetically susceptible to accepting even a half-formed serum. If that's not what they want, then...I don't know. They said something about tissue samples, but Steve is_ not allowed _to give them any. These bastards will just take and take until he's left with nothing."_

Pepper gripped the notebook until the paper began to crumple. The idea of any children she might have with Bruce being used for radiation experiments made her so furious that Bruce actually edged away from her a little, sensing her fury and feeling the Hulk growl within him in recognition of it.

"Why don't we go get Clint and Natasha in the training room, darling?" Pepper said, her voice cheerful to other's ears, dissonantly serene and worrying to Bruce's. 

He put his pen down and gave her a tender, soft kiss, slow and sweet, before taking her hand and squeezing it.

"Yes," he murmured, "let's." 

He let her lead him out the door and up the stairs before they made their way to the training room. Her hands shook the entire time. He needed to talk to her, calm her down, and wasn't that just ironic? Yeah, calm her down. _He_ needed to soothe her. 

"Pep," he murmured as they slipped into the training room, out of earshot and no longer surrounded by cameras, "listen to me. We won't have children. Not as long as there's even a chance S.H.I.E.L.D. might take them. If—if this lasts, I mean." He blushed. "That...um, that _was_ what you were worried about, right?"

Pepper smiled, and he couldn't help but let his heart soar, if only for a second. She nodded, wringing her hands nervously.

"Yes, yes it was—I, oh my god, if we—I mean, I've never really wanted kids, _Tony_ was my child, pretty much, but—I mean, you, and I, and sometimes I think it might be nice, but I just—" Pepper shook her head and hugged him fiercely.

"Not as long as we're here," she murmured. "I'm sorry. Not as long as there's even a chance they might hurt them."

"I understand." Bruce said, and he really did. There was no bitterness to the decision. If he was to ever have children, they would grow up safe and happy, somewhere far away from here. that was worth waiting for. 

He sighed quietly and stroked her hair, kissing her cheek. "Pepper?" He murmured, soft and hesitant. She pulled away to look at him. He smiled and kissed her. 

"You do know you're more than enough to me, right?" He said. "I don't need children to feel happy with you."

She was quiet for a minute.

"I know," she said, her voice thick with emotion, "but it's nice to get a reminder."

He hugged her tight and nuzzled her forehead, rubbing her back comfortingly and kissing her until he felt her untensing beneath his touch, relaxing slowly, by degrees.

"C'mon," he said as he pulled away and took her hand, "the kids are waiting."

They both laughed at that, making their way down to the main training room, but as Pepper looked at the four of them sitting there, all roughed up from training, sweaty and exhausted and yet grinning with delight at her presence, awaiting her advice, aid, and approval, she pondered for a bit if there was more truth to his teasing than she had thought.


	83. The Starkest Suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gets into a fight. Steve is not happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I hate me too, it's okay. It could be worse.  
> Aside from that...yeah. For once, I'm putting the notes at the bottom, because so much of it would be spoilers! So check the bottom for notes, please.

The whole air seemed scented with the crackling gunpowder smell that preceded fights. Tony could practically feel it through his pores.

He knew something was wrong. The village was too empty. Normally, he would at least see some of the villagers, or livestock, or something; but now it was like everyone had just disappeared.

He might've at least checked in with Phil and asked if anything was going on, if not simply left entirely, but the fact was that he really just wanted to get back home to Steve and didn't really care about what was going on in regards to the town.

Of course, that would end up biting him in the ass sooner rather than later, but for the moment, Tony zipped around town as fast as he could, trying to get done so he could go home.

That idea was cut short the second he rounded the last bend and came face to face with Doctor Doom.

Nothing showed in his eyes; not anger or malice or evil. He just watched.

"Stark." He said.

Tony panicked, but he didn't flee yet. He didn't want Doom to give chase. The armor wasn't meant for combat, but he could clearly see through the camoflauge—Doom had probably been working on it while he had been collecting intel, stupid, _stupid._

"Victor," Tony greeted him, "how's your head?"

 _"You mock me."_ Victor snarled.

Tony bit back a shudder. No, this was not an enemy for snappy retorts and playful banter; this was Doctor Doom with a nasty grudge. He had to tread carefully.

Doom's eyes narrowed behind his mask, and he flexed his armored fist, giving Tony a severe look. His eyes were dead and dull--there was no hesitation in them, nor empathy. He would kill Tony if he could.

"This is _my land,_ Stark. Not S.H.I.E.L.D.'s. I advise you learn that, and quickly, for Doom is not a forgiving person." He lifted up his hand. "Though S.H.I.E.L.D. tend to be slow learners as well. Perhaps I should send you home in pieces, so that they begin to get the message."

Before Tony could bolt, a blast of magic slammed into the chest of the armor. Tony snarled with pain as the magic tore open the armor, exposing the arc reactor. It glowed, as if in protest, as he tried to turn around and start up the jet boots.

This was not optimal. Not optimal at all. This was actually incredibly horrible and _where was Phil—_

Before Tony could sound the alarm for him, a bolt of shining silver was flying at him, and Victor von Doom's fist was in his face, throwing him through a hut and skidding down a cobblestone road.

Tony groaned and spat out blood as he tried to get to his feet. The stealth armor had no weapons, nor was it built to withstand much—certainly not Doom's armored fists. This wasn't a fight he could win, he knew that. But he had to get him away from the village.

 _"JARVIS, all energy to the jets! Now!_ " Tony demanded. JARVIS whirred, starting up immediately.

" _I know, sir. Hold on._ " He reassured him. In just a second, the machine had booted up and Tony was scrabbling upward.

After a brief struggle, Tony started up his jetboots and soared off, heading for the forest. He heard Doom give chase; magic, probably, some kind of levitation. Tony really hated magic.

He ducked and dove as Doom fired off another blast, and yelled into his comm, " _JARVIS! I need Phil,_ now!"

 _"I know, sir. I am trying to contact him. He is readying the weapons systems, but you must lead him further away."_ JARVIS said _. "Higher, sir?"_

 _"Sounds like a plan!"_ Tony agreed, soaring up into the sky and over the forest, getting as far away as he could. His armor was protesting, groaning, cutting into his skin, and Tony bit back a shriek of agony as he felt his cuts reopen.

"DO NOT THINK YOU CAN ESCAPE _DOOM,_ STARK!" Doom roared, sending another blast Tony's way. It clipped his shoulder and Tony winced, ducking a little and gritting his teeth against the pain.

He would've loved to fire off a pithy retort, but the faster he flew and the more the suit continued to fail him, parts chipping off and denting with each blow Doom sent his way, he was starting to have a sinking feeling the dictator might be right.

He fired off a repulsor blast, but it wasn't enough; Doom countered it with a blast of his own that Tony barely managed to avoid. Tony knew he couldn't fight Doom in close quarters; the stealth armor couldn't handle it. He just had to keep dodging until—

 _"Tony, I'm here. It's all right. Just—stay out of the way for a second, all right_?" Coulson said, coming in over the comm. Tony could've kissed him in that moment. " _I don't know the range of these missiles._ "

Tony did as he asked, but not immediately; he turned around, zoomed right into Doom's face, and taking advantage of Doom's shock, got in at least one good punch before soaring up and away as Phil, from within the jet, grinned and pressed a blinking red button.

The hatch opened and a pristine white missile flew out, striking Doom dead on before exploding.

Phil sighed with relief until the smoke cleared and he was still standing there. Relief gave away to immediate panic.

"You think you can toy with Doom using such paltry trinkets? S.H.I.E.L.D. ought to be ashamed that this is how it challenges the ruler of Latveria!" Doom turned on Tony, who had come down to check the damage.

"And Stark shall suffer for it." He said, his voice completely calm for the first time in the entire battle.

He lifted up his hand and aimed a blast straight at Tony's chest.

The suit went flying, plowing through a grove of trees and slamming into the earth. Phil swore and banked, flying away as Doom's voice rang in his ears. He was not to give chase—this was a warning and nothing more, which Phil counted them both lucky for—but his words were enough.

"Let this be a lesson, dogs of S.H.I.E.L.D.!" He crowed, triumphant. "No man shall trifle with Victor von Doom and count himself among the living!"

Phil landed the jet, those words still running through his head, and immediately bolted for the smoking crater that the suit's impact had left.

The armor was beaten up and bedraggled, and pieces of it were pretty much almost entirely broken off. Tony's blood poured through the cracks and onto the earth, and Coulson felt ill as he dragged his trembling body from the crater and back into the jet.

He laid Tony down gently and took the helmet off. Blood gushed from at least two cuts on his head, and his eyes took a second to focus before he met Phil's gaze.

"Everyone safe?" He said. Phil nodded, his heart aching.

"Yes, Tony, you kept the village safe. You were so brave." He murmured. "I don't think we did much to Doom, but we got you out of there alive, and when you're squaring off with Doom, that's really all that counts, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess." Tony mumbled weakly. "Can we go home now? This hurts like a bitch, and I want Steve."

"I know, Tony. Ssh. We're on our way, fast as this jet can fly. JARVIS?" He called out. "Can you direct whatever power's left in the armor to the reactor?"

 _"As best as I can, sir. There is not much left, but I will try to negate some damage and prevent cardiac arrest. Please, sir,_ " JARVIS urged him, " _we must get Tony home."_

"I know, I know, I'm setting the course as fast as I can, just—" Phil cut himself off as he hit the engine button and strapped Tony in, sending them skidding across the belly of the plane as they rocketed forward, back towards New York, where Steve was waiting, oblivous to what had transpired.

...

The whole group had headed home by seven that night, going home a little early so as to prepare for the return of Phil and Tony. Steve, Clint, and Natasha all tried to hide their enthusiasm and all of them failed miserably, wriggling in their seats like excited puppies the whole way home.

Steve was dressed in the jeans he knew Tony liked and one of Tony's AC/DC shirts by eight, sipping his coffee and sitting at the kitchen table with his sunglasses on, awaiting Tony's return. Fifteen more minutes passed before the sunglasses beeped in his ear.

 _"Steve, it's Phil. I need you on the roof by the armor detatchment station,_ now _."_

Steve wasted no time. A knot of fear and panic had begun to tie itself around his heart, choking him. He bolted up the steps, feet resounding on the stairs until he opened up the door to the roof and made his way out, looking up at the night sky, the stars twinkling above him, and watching at the end of the armor detatchment station as the S.H.I.E.L.D. jet landed.

Phil got out first, his face ashen, his hands shaking. He didn't look at Steve. At first, Steve was confused—until the other man behind Phil shambled out of the jet and he understood everything.

Tony walked down the runway, letting the armor be taken from his body. The tech came up to receive him, like tender, gentle hands, taking off what had hurt and bruised him so. With every piece that was stripped away, more blood flowed freely, and more and more bruises and ghastly stitches were revealed to Steve's horrified sight.

Blood pooled onto the walkway, enough that for a second, Tony stuttered, slipping in it. A mechanical arm caught him before Steve could run out to get him, which Steve was numbly grateful for; he was too horrified to move.

The arms urged him on gently now, taking it off as slowly and lovingly as they could, more like attendants than machines with their careful tenderness. The armor dripped with Tony's blood as they pulled it away, and the sounds of the drops falling on the ground were like gunshots in Steve's ears.

Finally, at the end, his boots being taken off last, Tony teetered for a second without anything left to support him before falling right into Steve's arms.

There was a quiet moment where Steve went numb. Then he felt Tony's blood soaking through his shirt and spreading across his skin.

Posessive fury like Steve had never known burst to the breaking point within him.

He turned on his heel and stormed inside immediately, roaring and snarling incoherently as Phil raced after them both, trying to make him calm down, grab his shoulder and make him relax, anything.

It was too late for that. Something wild, terrified, and vicious had been awoken in Steve, and he was beyond reason. He slammed through doors, tearing them off their hinges and throwing them through walls, making his way up the stairs with Tony in his arms, equal parts sobbing and screaming his name, rage and sorrow in ill-harmonied synonymy with each other.

Phil decided to do the smart thing and just go take care of everyone else. They, at least, could be loved and comforted and protected. Steve, at the moment, was a little beyond that.

He raced downstairs and bundled his lovers into his arms without hesitation, shushing them in soothing, maternal tones, and guiding them onto the couch, kissing their cheeks and stroking their hair. It was obvious Steve's rage had echoed throughout the whole house and put everyone on edge, and they could all feel its power. Pepper was on the other couch, Bruce's face buried into her chest as she stroked Thor's hair and cooed soothingly at both of them.

"I'm so glad you're both safe." Phil whispered to his lovers, relief making his heart ache. They both looked up at him, wide-eyed.

"Glad you're safe too, babe," Clint murmured, "but...Tony isn't, is he?"

"No, he isn't," Coulson replied. "And that's why we're letting Steve handle it."

They all cuddled each other fiercely on the couch, surrounding one another like a shield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possessive and protective Steve is possessive and protective. He goes a little bit off the deep end for the next few chapters, just as a warning in advance.  
> Phil is best handler. But Doom is not to be trifled with!  
> Also, assume Phil had a first-aid kit on the plane and did what he could. That won't make sense until you read, but believe me, going without medical treatment for that long is indeed unrealistic. Phil made sure Tony wasn't going to die before they got him home, but there wasn't much else he could do. Bandaged him up, stopped the bleeding, JARVIS kept the reactor going, and they got home as fast as they could.


	84. To Avenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is not happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys! Finishing up A Man and His Toy Soldiers. It's finally almost finished, but it has kind of eaten my time up.  
> Going to NYCC; if any of you are, I'm going as fem!Coulson, and I'll have a little Captain America's shield pin on my jacket. Come say hi, please! :)  
> I'll try to update over the weekend at least once.  
> Yes, Tony's injured, but it could have been worse; the armor did prevent him from sustaining too many injuries. Steve is just at his breaking point with SHIELD.

Steve had stormed through the house like a wildfire, all-consuming and vicious, but once he reached Tony's room, his whole demeanor changed. He laid Tony down on the bed very gently, on top of a blanket he was willing to replace, and managed a smile as he kissed his forehead. Tony was breathing heavily, his heart pounding, his eyes wide.

"Ssh, ssh," Steve soothed him softly, "don't be scared, darling. I'm here. I'm here. I'm right here, I'm right here, ssh, ssh...ssh. I'm right here. I'm going to go start a bath, babylove. Let me go start you a nice, warm bath. JARVIS?" Steve called. "Can you place a delivery for some of Tony's favorite ice cream?" He paused. "Get some for everyone, actually. I think I scared them. I should apologize."

 _"...Captain...are you all right_?" The AI asked, his tone hesitant. Steve chuckled. His face was covered in Tony's blood from where he had kissed him, and it shone dully when he smiled.

"Of course I am, JARVIS," he said, "Tony's home."

There was a pause. Then JARVIS whirred and beeped in reply.

 _"...I see, sir. I shall place the order and draw the bath. The first aid kit is in the dresser below the sink."_ He said. _"I trust you know how to suture and stitch?"_

"Enough to take care of Tony, but I'll need some antiseptics and painkillers. Do you have them?" Steve asked. He was all business now, his voice strong and commanding. Tony whimpered from the bed and Steve cooed at him, shushing him lovingly.

_"Yes, Ms. Potts was clever enough to place an order for hospital-grade painkillers once we learned of Tony's new hobby." JARVIS remarked dryly. "They are in the kit as well. Please, Captain—his vitals are not...not optimal."_

"Oh, _darling_ ," Steve moaned, agonized, "oh, Tony. Ssh, baby. Hold on, just hold on."

He made his way into the bathroom, where the steam from the rapidly-rising bath greeted him like a lover, all soft caresses and reassurances of safety. Steve ripped the cabinet doors off and yanked out the massive first aid kit, bolting back into their room and picking Tony up one-handed, cradling him against his chest as he made his way back into the bathroom.

He ripped the tank top Tony had been trying to pass off as underarmor in two, letting the scraps of bloodied cloth fall to the ground, covering the kit like a burial shroud. Tony moaned softly as Steve gripped him with trembling hands, sinking him gently into the water to clean out the cuts.

Tony wailed in agony as the water turned red, whorls and plumes of scarlet eventually turning to mist that made the water opaque with crimson hue, turning Steve's vision the exact same color in the bargain.

"Darling, I know it hurts, but we have to wash the blood off so I can see all the cuts." Steve said through gritted teeth. "You're being very brave, you know that? So brave. My beautiful little Tony. Ssh, darling. I'm right here. Ssh, ssh, ssh."

"Fucking _hell_ , Steve!" Tony groaned, nuzzling against his lover, desperate for comfort. "Make it _stop_! Please! You can make it better, I know you! You're the only one that _can_!"

Steve's heart might as well have been just as battered as Tony's body by that point. He kissed the top of Tony's head, nodding against the bloodstained locks of soft chestnut hair that brushed against his cheeks.

"Ssh, sweetie. I'm going to. I'm going to make it all better for my brave, wonderful, brilliant Tony, but you have to trust me. It'll take some time. Let me make sure you're all washed up and all the blood's gone, Tony. Then we can go stitch you up and bandage you so you can go to bed." He promised.

"Ice cream first." Tony grumbled, and for a second, the real Tony, not the pain-wracked victim of Fury's machinations, was in control. Steve smiled.

"Yes, sweetie. Ice cream first." He promised. "But only if you let me check you now, okay?"

Tony stood up in the bath and gasped with pain as he did, the cuts groaning in protest; Steve initially tensed, snarling, but Tony quieted his cries, seeing what they did to Steve and resolving to be a little stronger for his lover, and so Steve calmed down after a minute, observing his body carefully.

The cuts were numerous, deep, and vicious, but at least he could see them all now. Steve sighed with relief and kissed Tony's cheek, helping him out of the tub and back into their bedroom. JARVIS had brought the lights up to allow Steve to work, and he could hear Pepper downstairs picking up the ice cream. Steve was laying Tony down on the bed and getting out the painkiller pills just as she knocked on the door. He sighed.

"Come in, Pep." He said quietly.

She crept in, clearly still nervous. He did his best to reassure her, smiling brightly until he realized there was still blood on his face.

"I, uh, kissed Tony's forehead." Steve explained. "He's...he's very hurt. I got scared. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you as well."

"It's all right," Pepper promised, "just— _Jesus Christ!_ " She screamed. For a second, she felt silent, but the terror in her eyes remained.

" _Tony_!" She shouted, bolting to his side in an instant, completely incoherent with agony and fury. "Tony— _Tony!_ Tony, fuck— _fuck—_ Tony! _TONY_!"

"I'm right here, no need to shout." Tony mumbled. "Can I have ice cream now?"

" _Fix him_!" Pepper snarled, turning upon Steve, her eyes wild. "You fix him _right the fuck now_!"

Steve held up his hands and backed away a little, eyes wide. Pepper was snarling and practically hissing with fury at this point. He didn't protest, however—he knew he had no room to complain about someone getting angry on Tony's behalf.

"I'm going to, I'm going to! I promise!" Steve sighed and gestured towards downstairs. "Pep, you go take care of the others and tell them I'm okay and give them their ice cream—I'll be up here taking care of Tony. I promise. Trust me. Please. Tony does. I know you do." Steve said gently.

Pepper looked at him for a minute.

Then she nodded, tears in her eyes, planted a kiss on Tony's forehead, and headed out, leaving their ice cream behind as she went back downstairs.

Steve sighed and smiled, relieved. The others would be all right. Now he had to attend to the real problem—taking care of his Tony...

Steve kissed his forehead and took out the painkillers, sitting Tony up and slipping them in his mouth with a bite of ice cream, making him swallow. They would take some time to take effect, which meant Steve could listen to his heartbeat and gauge it before deciding what actions to take.

He leaned against Tony's chest, not touching it, but close, and listened to his heartbeat. It was rough and ragged, even moreso than usual, and Steve shuddered. However, despite his initial panic...there didn't appear to be major damage to the reactor. Still.

"JARVIS? Could you get me a reactor and a new core from the basement? I'd rather replace this just to be on the safe side." Steve said.

 _"Certainly, sir_." JARVIS replied. Steve stroked Tony's hair as he heard the whirring of machinery going to do as he had asked—Dummy would probably be sent to bring the core.

"Tony, sweetie? Are you okay with me replacing the reactor? I'm worried there might be some damage I'm not seeing." Steve murmured. Tony nodded.

"Trust you. You take care of me." Tony mumbled.

Steve kissed his forehead with tears in his eyes.

He went back to his work as he heard Dummy whirring up the steps; Tony had given him little jetboots to propel him instead of his initial tread, which meant he could finally climb stairs. Steve had never thought that would be of use—it seemed more like Tony wanted Dummy upstairs just to yell at him some more—but now, he was more grateful for those little machines than he had been for anything else in his life.

He was disinfecting the cuts as Dummy came in, washing them clean and scrubbing off Tony's time away from home, leaving him clean and raw as Steve examined the cuts carefully, judging what would and wouldn't need stitches.

Dummy whirred, poking Steve in the head with the reactor. Steve chuckled lightly, patting the robot on the head and taking the reactor and core from him.  
"Good boy," he said, "very good boy. Thank you, Dummy. You're a very big help!"

He felt the robot whirr beneath him, and it visibly brightened up—as much as a robot could brighten up without a real face, admittedly. Tony grunted from his spot on the bed.  
"Good boy," he mumbled, "good job, wine rack. Love you."

Steve chuckled as Dummy settled himself into the corner. The robot's "hand" was ungainly and couldn't do much, but he gave Steve chirrups of comfort and encouragement, and when he could, he nudged supplies towards Steve. He patted the robot's head in thanks as he continued on with his work.

Only a few cuts along the lines of the armor really required major stitches, which Steve tended to with the brisk ease that came with practice, having seen far worse in the war. The injuries he had seen there, however, may have perhaps been more intense in scope, but at least well-deserved, to a degree. They were in a war; injuries were to be expected, if not outright welcomed by a gallant, foolish few.

These were not war wounds. They were not from any sort of battle—at least, not a fair one. These wounds were a mark of Tony's suffering; suffering his darling did not deserve in any way, shape, or form. That made the gaping mouths full of blood and screaming out for Steve to sew them up far worse. It made him so very aware that Tony hadn't asked for this—he hadn't signed up to fight alone. He was an Avenger, a team player, even when he didn't admit it; someone who deserved to have their back covered in a fight. Not a weapon, never. Not a pawn in someone else's games.

Steve shook his head and bit his lip to stave off tears of exhausted frustration. He couldn't do anything about what had transpired but clean up the damage. Not yet. Soon. 

He sewed up the last of the cuts, cutting the thread. Dummy handed him a roll of bandages and nudged the antibiotic ointment towards him. Steve hummed a note of thanks before slathering Tony up; half his body was glistening with ointments by the time he was done. Tony laughed a little at the slick feel of his arms on his bare chest, a little loopy from his painkillers. Steve just smiled and bandaged him up with care, cinching the bandages tight around Tony's arms.

When Tony whimpered with pain, Steve cooed gently and stroked his hair, shaking his head. Tony quieted and looked up at him. Steve smiled. 

"I know it hurts a little, sweetheart, but I have to make sure the cuts don't re-open. It's going to stop hurting soon. I'll make sure they're not as tight around your legs, okay?" Steve said. Tony nodded.

"Steve? Can you just—if you're gonna do it, change the reactor, okay? I—I don't want it in me if it might be damaged. It would be pretty shitty to die right here on the bed after everything you've done to fix me up." Tony murmured. Steve nodded.

"I was making sure you would be ready, but if you are...I'll get it done quickly, I promise." Steve said.

And he did; the arc reactor was taken out of his chest with gentle, careful hands and given to Dummy, who held on to it for Tony to examine for damage later, and the other arc reactor was attached and slid in with a soft snick.

Before it was, however, Steve kissed both it and the core, slipping the core in and putting the entire reactor inside Tony with a gentle click.

Tony sighed with contentment as the reactor went back to work, humming with energy as Steve bowed and kissed it, smiling up at Tony.

"Better?" He asked, propping Tony's legs up to bandage them. Tony nodded in agreement, settling in on the bed and watching Steve finish bandaging him up, going over his chest, shoulders, and legs with bandages. Blood began to soak into the canvas and gauze, but Tony didn't seem to be in much pain, so Steve let it slide.

He finished up his handiwork, standing over Tony and checking him over. He had initially worried about a concussion, but Tony had responded whenever he had called, and he didn't seem to be slurring. He might have a bit of a headache...but he wasn't concussed. That, at least, was a relief, because that meant Tony could rest.

"Ice cream first," Tony grumbled, like he had read Steve's mind, "and then I'll go to bed. I swear." He sighed. "M'sorry, Steve. Date tomorrow?"

"Yes, sweetheart, of course." Steve promised, shaking his head and sighing with amused exasperation. "Did you honestly think I'd expect a date from you in your condition, darling?"  
Tony grunted. Steve really hoped that was a no.

"In any case, darling, I've got something to attend to before I come up to bed. You eat your ice cream. Dummy!" He said, making the robot whirr with surprise and stand at attention. "You and JARVIS are in charge of Tony. Tuck him in, turn the television on, make sure his pillows are fluffed, the works. If Pepper's awake, you can ask her for help, but if she isn't, please don't wake her, she needs rest. I'll be back in an hour—"

_After I've bashed Fury's brains out—_

"And I leave Tony in your careful hands." Steve said.

He turned to leave, watching Dummy move over to Tony's bed and tuck him in out of the corner of his eye. Tony smiled sleepily and nuzzled into the pillows, looking like this sort of scene had played out before. When he was a child, perhaps. Steve knew Howard wouldn't have tucked him in.

His heart surged with affection for the robot and all that he, too, had done for Tony and regret that it had taken so long for him to come back to Tony's side, where he belonged more than anyone else; a curious mixture that burned like fire and sent chills down his spine like sweet ice.

Steve turned his back on the scene entirely as he made his way downstairs. With every step, a bit of the Captain, the good man, fell away like molting feathers to reveal the festering skin beneath. Every step he took crushed the kind, gentle man, the good soldier, beneath his feet. Every step he took strengthened the vicious, all-consuming fire to avenge the wrongs upon his lover.

The good man fell. The avenger rose.

Steve made it to the foyer before someone calling his name and reminding him of who he was stopped him.

He turned around to see Coulson standing there, something clenched in his hands. It took Steve a second to look past his rage and recognize his shield in Phil's hands.

"Tony had this on him for pretty much the entire time." Phil said quietly. "He couldn't carry it when he was out gathering intel, though. Too bulky." He gripped the shield. "Part of me wonders if it might've helped."

"I don't know." Steve murmured in return. "I wish I did, Phil. I wish none of this had ever happened. But it did. And I'm going to go do something about it."

Phil watched him for a very long, slow minute.

"Should I get them ready to go?" He asked. "Will we need to run?"

"No." Steve said. "No, no one's running. Not you. Not him."

Phil continued to watch him.

Then he handed Steve's shield back to him and squeezed the Captain's hand. That one gesture told Steve he understood exactly what this action would entail for the Captain.

"I think you'll need this back, then." He said.

Steve smiled. In the low light of the foyer, crimson-hued and dark, it looked like blood.


	85. The Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's a bit short; the next one introduces a certain long-forgotten character who's been waiting very patiently to make a return!  
> Steve makes the best decision possible, really. Lays it out rather nicely, too. Again--I know this is short but it's very relevant to Steve's character in this, I think. So I hope you enjoy and there will be an update within two days to make up for this!  
> Also, for those of you who have not heard, COULSON LIVES!

He was at the base in ten minutes. Steve didn't quite trust new cars, but he trusted Tony's skill with engineering, and on his motorcycle, he had gotten here well enough.

Steve walked through the halls with his shield at his side, his eyes glazed over with thought.

The drive over had given him time to fantasize and contemplate all the brutal ways he would murder Fury with utmost righteousness on his side. Now that he was here within the man's lair, those fantasies had given way to real, pragmatic thoughts, and the details of the consequences he would reap with this act.

If he killed Fury here and now...what would that actually _do?_

Maria would take over. And he couldn't kill her. She had not ordered this mission. She had not put Tony in harm's way. He was in no way willing to kill a woman, especially if she had not been the cause of his darling Tony's harm. 

So then Maria would take over and declare all the Avengers rogue. All the men and women who were after Clint and Natasha would have free reign to kill them. All the people after Bruce would have free reign to catch him, control him, take him away from Pepper, someplace where he would never see daylight again. Kill him, maybe.

Pepper, then—Pepper would be in danger. Tony's friend, and an agent, now. They would declare her rogue, have her killed. Pepper, who had done no wrong to anyone in this organization and taken care of two of its best operatives when their lover was gone and no one else within S.H.I.E.L.D. could be bothered to. 

Phil, Clint and Natasha would die. Bruce would die, or wish he could. Pepper would die. Thor might live; he was a god. But they would kill his Loki, if they could. And a life without Loki would be no life his shieldbrother would want to live. Steve knew that.

He would die. But he was all right with that. This had never been his time to live, but for Tony's sake. And...Tony...

The knowledge, spurred on by that declaration, hit him like a blow from his own shield as he stood there in the hallway.

 _Tony_ would die. Oh, yes. They would not hesitate to kill his darling. 

_He_ did not mind dying, if it was for a cause he believed good and just. He was a soldier. 

But good and just though this cause may be, it was not one he could fight. Not considering the cost, the others he would drag into battle beside him.

His friends would die for this cause as well; this fight they had no stake in. They would die because of Steve's reckless, rash actions, and that was something Steve could not tolerate. The good man within him had never really left, it seemed.

And Tony would die. Tony would die after Pepper and Rhodey and Happy and Phil and JARVIS and Dummy and Steve himself had all worked so hard to keep him alive. He would lose Tony just as Tony was beginning to find himself. 

There was no way to win this. Not without losses Steve refused to bear.

That was the power of the Director, wasn't it? He gave you a team, gave you partners, and then made you watch as he pulled them apart, left them teetering on the brink, with just enough hope left that you could catch them, maybe, enough hope that you would still think you had something left to lose.

Those partners or team were something that meant everything in the world to you by that point; it was the one thing you would not risk, for Director Fury chose his targets well. So you would not fight him, but the cliff from which your partners teetered, in hopes that you might catch them before they were pushed, once and for all.

It never quite got that far. Or if it did, it was in a way that the Director could not be blamed.

Steve was helpless. 

It was like being home again during one of the grey days, when he could do nothing but lie in bed and listen to his father's fists on his mother's skin, trembling with fever as he wept for his mother, who would not cry when she knew Steve could hear.

Steve had never wanted to feel helpless ever again, if he could make it so. For awhile, that had worked.

But he was involved with something so much larger than himself now. S.H.I.E.L.D., in this one regard, was like HYDRA; if Steve cut off the one head, he knew two more would grow in its place. 

He could not kill Fury. Fury was just one head, and Steve had so many people who could be harmed by the thousands of others that remained poised, waiting to strike.

He had nothing left to him in this base. There was no enemy to fight, no man he could kill to make all the problems go away, nothing to stop.

This wasn't a war. 

This was a game. A game where Steve had none of the pieces or instructions and couldn't see the other player's pieces.

Steve had nothing left to do now. He had no weapon.

All he had was a shield.

He stood there for a minute and quietly despaired.

Eventually, however, the light shining off the star on his shield made him refocus.

No, he had no weapons. But he had a _shield_. And in its own way, the shield was the mightiest of all. 

If he was really willing to sacrifice vengeance to keep them safe, he should be more than ready to give his protection to do the exact same thing.

Steve gripped his shield tight and turned on his heel, storming out of the base before anyone even knew he was there.

No. He could not fight. He could not avenge. 

But he could _save._

He was returning home to Tony. The place where he should've been all along. 

He had not cut off the main head, but he had stopped them all from attacking. That, for the moment, was enough.

He had other battles to fight now, and better ones. He had accepted another battlefield the second he had claimed Tony as his lover, and that meant having to retreat from this one. That was all right. Steve could live with that.

He left S.H.I.E.L.D. base and got on his bike, driving home. It only took him five minutes, this time, but it helped that he took a shortcut he had seen while he and Tony had been out on his motorcycle. He just wanted to get home as fast as he could.

So he did; he got home, he put the motorbike in the garage, and went to go upstairs.

Before he did, however, he had to pass through the kitchen. He jumped, realizing Phil was sitting there with a cup of coffee, his eyes inscrutable and his expression blank.

"You didn't do it." He said. 

Steve gripped his shield and nodded. He felt guilty; like he hadn't just been going there to avenge his wrongs, now, but the wrongs that had been enacted against the man that sat there with hollow eyes that saw only a winter and a grey, cold dream.

"I knew you wouldn't do it." Phil murmured. "You're the best man in the whole world, Cap. The one we all looked up to. My gran. Me. Everyone. No one so loved for the good things he did could ever turn his back on all that." 

"You wanted me to, didn't you?" Steve replied.

Phil laughed, low and bitter, and drank a bit more coffee. It soured in his mouth and stung his throat as he opened it to speak.

"Yes. I did." He said. Then he smiled wryly and shook his head, sighing. "Guess I'm not as good a man as you, Cap."

Steve hugged him, squeezing him tight. From the way Coulson tensed, he supposed hugs from anyone but perhaps Clint and Natasha were a very rare thing for the other man.

"You're a good man, Phil. You're a man willing to do the job when no one else wants to or can, and that I respect. Far as I'm concerned, you're an Avenger." Steve chuckled. "No wonder you want to avenge."

The smile he received from the agent made Steve's heart ache. There was so much idolation and grateful delight in his eyes as he nodded.

"Well, I suppose we've got to toe the line. Can't be helped." Coulson sighed. "You came back to where you were really needed, soldier. Don't think of this as desertion. Think of it as a...swerve in tactical manuevering."

Steve actually laughed at that. He nodded in agreement, hanging up his jacket on the back of the chair before jerking his thumb towards the stairs.

"I bet you've got two very lonely agents waiting for you to join them," he said. "I can hear Clint tossing and turning in bed. He left the door open—second from the left past Tony's room."

"I told them to go to bed without me..." Phil sighed. Steve snorted.

"Did you honestly think they would listen?" He asked. Phil chuckled.

"Do they ever?" He dumped the rest of his coffee in the sink and turned to Steve, giving him a slow, sharp look. There was pride in that look. Steve didn't understand quite why, but he liked it.

"You did the right thing. Tony can be taken care of much more easily than S.H.I.E.L.D.; plus, he deserves it more." Coulson said.

Without another word, he went upstairs and headed to his lovers' bedside. 

Steve watched him go, equally silent. For a few minutes he remained downstairs, chewing on an apple; he was starved. Then the overwhelming need to go tend to Tony overtook him, and so he headed up the stairs, quiet as he went past the rooms where everyone slept.

To his relief, the doors were open so that he could look upon them all; Clint, Natasha, and Phil, all cuddled up together on the bed, surrounded by blankets, the archer and the spy both snuggled up around Phil, keeping him safe and sound, wrapped up in their arms, and Thor snoring contentedly away, nestled up against a green pillow. He was murmuring something in his sleep. Steve didn't stop to listen. 

Pepper and Bruce slept soundly in the room closest to Tony; Bruce's arm was thrown around Pepper's stomach, cuddling her close. The tender gesture made Steve smile just as he opened the door and stepped into his own room. 

Tony was half-asleep, Dummy sitting beside him, the two of them watching television. For a few minutes, with Tony barely conscious, Steve could watch him. 

He rested in bed content and safe, untroubled despite his vulnerability. Tony trusted him to return, Steve realized; he trusted his lover to come home and defend him, should he be in danger. He wasn't frightened. He was just waiting.

Steve broke the silence with a soft whisper of Tony's name, all his love winding through it as he realized the gravity of what was occurring in front of him. His lover stirred, his eyelashes fluttering and his lips parting in a easy, quiet yawn.

The waking complete, Tony's eyes fell on Steve, regarding him with warmth. He brightened up immediately and held out his arms. 

Steve fell into them without a word, holding Tony close and tight, kissing his lips with gentle restraint so as not to hurt him further.

This was the fight he wanted to keep fighting. Because this one, he had a chance of winning.

Steve's heart soared with love as he pulled Tony down into bed with him, snuggling him close, wrapping a protective hand over the arc reactor, and soothing him gently to sleep.


	86. A Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Coulson talk. There is a severe lack of stabbings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking at this, which was all written before the movie...ouch. There's a bit of a bitter sting to it, yes. But as I think I should stress again--this is not the Loki that bargained with Thanos and all that jazz. This is a Loki that fell and is still falling. He can still have Thor catch him; all is not lost.  
> And also before I knew about what the movie would do, I was interested in how Loki might see Coulson; a worthy Midgardian, someone his brother liked; he might be curious, fascinated. So...yeah. That's why this happened!  
> Also Coulson is very cunning when he needs to be. Love him.

Loki, from within his dark prison, awoke and winced. His entire body was wet and sore and aching, with blood and fluid and cramped muscles. He had not been tended to by anyone nor been allowed to tend to himself for days, now, and there was no magic left for him to access so as to tend to his needs.

He had to awaken, however, because something above him had been stirring so powerfully that even in Dreams, he could feel it.

He closed his eyes and relaxed, reaching out with his mind, ignoring the pain of his body so as to try to find the source of all the sound and fury that had awoken him so quickly.

Once he pinpointed the source, his whole body tensed and he swallowed, hope making his throat convulse.

Thor? Brother? He had...he had not abandoned him? He had come back to him, to tend his wounds and soothe his aches and wash him clean and make him anew? Brother? Brother, _please..._

As Loki continued to make a link with the subconcious above him, however, he realized it was not the case; a twinge of regret lanced his heart, and sorrow, for hope made everything ache more than normal, and he wished so dearly he hadn't hoped for his brother's return.

Still. It was...someone close to Thor. Someone just as strong and proud and good, and...in so much pain. So very much.

Loki closed his eyes and swallowed, focusing, trying to find a name, a face. Nothing came to him initially; but other names swam up through the subconscious, and eventually, one lanced his heart.  
Tony. He spoke of Stark with love and fierce protective desire; it could be none other than the good Captain. His brother's shieldbrother...Steve Rogers.

Loki listened a little harder, dug a little deeper in his search; something had gone terribly wrong. The Captain was _furious_. A true, vicious darkness had begun to fester within him...but the Captain was a good, pure man. What had _happened?_

An image came to him from the depths of Steve's subconscious; Anthony Stark, broken and bruised and bleeding horribly as his armor fell around him.

Loki blinked, surprised. The Man of Iron had been harmed, then? Dear oh dear. He had known this to have been on the horizon, but...Thor had not _listened_...

If Thor had listened—no, no, he musn't dwell upon that, because if he did, he would think—

_If Thor had listened, they would be together. If Thor had listened, Anthony would be safe from harm, and the Captain would not be losing his mind above me. If Thor had listened, all would be well._

Loki did not think these things. Or at least, he pretended not to. Besides, the Captain...was he...going to fight? He was angry. Vicious, foul rage, bitter and black, reeking vinegar left to rot. He was going to fight Fury?

No. No, the Captain was...retreating. Leaving. Defeat and despair flooded through Loki like a burst of water from a geyser before retreating entirely. The Captain was gone.

Loki winced, letting his own agonies thread through him again for a minute before he sank into thought.

So. The Man of Iron was hurt. The Captain was...not happy. But he was helpless... And Thor was not listening. Not coming for him. Not going to save him.

But...he could find someone who _would._  
  
Loki thought further. He did not want to tread within the minds of the Widow and her archer; they were mostly foreign to him, and they were riddled with red and darkness. Anthony seemed to be in poor condition to aid him. The scientist—Bruce?—had that monster within him that would certainly make his subconscious a nightmare to navigate. Not worth the struggle. The Captain was occupied with another.

That left only the Son of Coul.

Loki considered this option for a time. Thor had said the Son of Coul had taken care of him and the team. Perhaps...he would take care of him, as well? It was a rare thing, to be taken care of, but...that flicker of hope would not die within Loki, not yet.

Yes; Thor had called him a brave man, strong and true. He tended to the archer and the spy, as well; this Loki knew, and was impressed by. Surely it took a great man to take upon the sorrows and savagery within those two.

If there was anyone who would listen, then, it would be the Son of Coul. And if Loki was lucky, he would be dreaming by now. It was late; surely he was asleep...

Loki laid down again, trembling with hunger and curled up beneath his coat. He wanted to be clean again; he could feel sweat and tears and blood on his coat and he hated it.

He could be clean in Dreams, if but for awhile. And, if he was correct, and his scheme worked out—he would be listened to, as well.

Loki closed his eyes and fell asleep in but a few minutes, reaching out with his mind for the Son of Coul—the one man who might listen.

...

Coulson loved the feeling of falling asleep between his lovers more than he realized; the simple reality of the two of them pressed up against him was enough to have him in bed and asleep in minutes. He had missed them so desperately, and they had missed him as well, that much was clear...

Still, talking and kissing could wait for the morning. For now, they slept beside each other, and it was enough.

Coulson only realized he was dreaming when he felt his suit jacket around him, snug and soft. He never fell asleep with his suit jacket on; it would get wrinkled, which mattered more to him than getting to bed as fast as possible, even after a long day.

He looked around in his dream, a little wary. There had been a time in his life, for a few hellish months, where he had started dreaming and never stopped—not until his darlings came back to him.

He didn't think this was this kind of dream, however. There was no pain here, or grey lurking fears. It was...a different kind of dream. But what kind? And _why?_

"Son of Coul?"

Only one person ever called him that. But...that wasn't Thor's voice.

Close, though.

Phil turned around to find Loki perched on a wisp of smoke. He wasn't sure how that worked, but, then again, it was a dream.

The mage watched him with bright green eyes, tilting his head a little. He surveyed Phil before nodding.

"Yes," he said, "you are the Son of Coul. You must be."

"I am," Phil said, "but...why are you here, Loki? What do you need with me?"

"I felt him," Loki replied. "Steven, I mean. The Captain was at base, and his emotions were so powerful and fierce...I was roused from my slumbers and observed him. The Man of Iron was harmed? He...he seemed to desire vengeance."

Phil sighed, guilt making his heart ache as he nodded. Loki just watched him intently.

"Yes, Tony got hurt. Steve took care of him...but he was not happy with Fury for authorizing the mission." Phil said carefully, unsure of what he wanted to tell Loki—or, more importantly, how much. Loki just laughed, dark and bitter.

"No one's particularly happy with Fury these days," he murmured, "but some don't seem to want to do much about it."

Coulson flinched.

No, Loki wouldn't know that Thor had searched for him and begged to be allowed to return him home. No, he _wouldn't_ know just how much his brother loved him.

He had to tell him. It was...it was the least the trickster deserved. And, more pragmatically, it would keep him sympathetic and willing to aid him should it become necessary. Coulson would not count out the Norse god's aid, even if he was indisposed at the moment.

"Thor loves you." He said. Loki tensed at that. Coulson sighed. The pain on the silvertongue's face was obvious and genuine; he was not so good at dissembling in dreams, so it seemed.

"I...I'm sorry. I've been the one telling him not to come and get you. Because we were worried that Tony would be hurt—exactly like he just was. Still, he's been searching for you and awaiting the moment he can come get you since the second S.H.I.E.L.D. took you from him. He's waiting for you, Loki. He'll be back for you as soon as he can." Coulson promised.

Loki was silent for a minute.

"He...he is awaiting me?" Loki finally murmured. "Thor wishes to find me?"

"The second I give him the order, he'll be at S.H.I.E.L.D. base to come get you. He wants to get you _now_ , more than anything—but there are others we need to protect. I'm sorry. I...I have to take responsibility for that and where you are right now." Coulson said. The regret in his voice was true; Loki could tell. For that, he respected the Son of Coul.

"It is all right," he replied. "I saw a flash of Anthony in Steven's mind's-eye; there are others in direr need than myself."

"Yes, he's...he's seriously hurt." Coulson agreed. "But—honestly, you concern yourself with Tony's protection?" Coulson tsked, internally awaiting a new gleam of truth and a revelation about the trickster god or two. "Huh. I can't say I expected that."

"It is not simply a matter of Anthony's protection; eventually, it shall be a matter of my brother's protection, as well." Loki said. "And I love Thor more dearly than anything."

Coulson looked almost disbelieving, and he had not said a word. That silence allowed Loki his room to rant and ramble, which, when he looked back upon the conversation, he wondered if that might've been the Son of Coul's plan all along.

"I would have ruled Midgard, but for my golden Thor and his love for this wretched place." Loki snorted. He looked up at the sky in the dream, which, when Coulson looked up at it with him, was the gold of lionskin tempered with steel-grey clouds, thick as hammers. Loki gestured about vaguely, shaking his head, his hair tumbling about his shoulders.

"Kingship? An empire? A race to rule? Nothing. _Nothing_ could be compared to Thor. Nothing could stand before him, and nothing ever shall. More than I love power, I love Thor. He is the one thing I would gladly give everything up for." Loki paused, like his words ached him to speak.

"I already have," he murmured, a touch of wistful agony in his voice. "To even have the hope of him, I would throw away everything all over again. For he would do the same, would he not?" Loki chuckled darkly. "Sentiment."

"Not a bad one, though." Coulson finally said, unsure of what to say to thousands of years of devotion and love that had soured so agonizingly. "You love him?"

Loki did not say anything for a time. Coulson was patient, though. He had tamed those far rougher and broken than Loki. They all spoke to him and gave him their secret sorrows, in time. It was the kind of man he was.

"He is the one man who ever cared," Loki answered, "who saw something in me beyond a shadow. He calls me _brother_. He _accepts_ me." Loki looked up at him.

"How can I not?" He said.

Coulson nodded, like the information hadn't surprised him. It hadn't, in truth. Loki sighed, giving him a pointed look.

"Surely you understand, Son of Coul. You've complex, twisted lovers. Plenty of darkness within them." He said, twiddling his fingers a bit as red dripped from them. It disappeared as quickly as it had shown up, but it was enough to make Coulson shudder for a second.

"I suppose," Coulson murmured. "But there was always an urge within them to do better and be greater. Can you say the same?"

There was a silence. Coulson simply waited.

"For him and him alone." Loki responded.

"...Good enough." Coulson said. Loki snorted, but did not reply further.

"In any case," he finally said, "if they cannot control my brother, they shall do to him what they did to Anthony. So I came here for one reason alone, Son of Coul; to tell you that you _must_ watch over them. You have to protect them. They _need_ you. They are protected and cared for by you; my brother told me as much. If you cannot protect Steven and Anthony, surely they shall come for my golden Thor next?" Loki shook his head. "It cannot happen. You must protect them. You _must_."

 _"I'm trying_!" Phil snapped, breaking under the weight of almost a week without his lovers and having to watch Tony get beaten within an inch of his life and Steve completely lose his cool and almost kill Fury, because even he could only take so much. "Damn you, I'm _trying_!"

"Then try harder." Loki said, ignoring his loss of temper. He pursed his lips, his eyes glittering. "It is not I that needs you. My golden Thor shall come to me. But the rest of them need you, and Thor is fond of them. I would rather they were not lost, if it would displease my brother so."

"I'll do the best I can." Phil promised. Then, because he knew it would sway Loki further in his favor, he added; "For Thor's sake as well."

"Thank you." Loki said. A genuine smile crossed his lips. It was tempered by hesitation and nervousness, but there was hope there. "If it would not trouble your plans, could you tell him we spoke?"

"What would you have me tell him?" Coulson asked. Loki huffed softly, considering.

"Tell him I am waiting for him," Loki said. "And that I understand. And I know he is coming." He grinned. It was just a little bit cheeky and brimming with happiness. "I know the oaf. He would love to think he is my knight in shining armor, and it shall soothe his temper to know I await him with my heart at ease."

"...All right." Phil agreed. "I'll tell him. Until we meet again, Laufeyson?"

Loki actually looked at him like he might have some respect for him. Phil had never particularly expected to spend any time in his life winning favor with dark gods, but it wasn't like he was complaining.

"Of course, Son of Coul. Fare thee well. Keep your team safe. I'll have need of them as well, someday." Loki said.

With that, the whorl of smoke dissipated, Loki's form soon after, melting like chalk drawings after a particularly hard rain. Phil blinked once and he was gone from the dreamscape, lost to the darkness.  
He slept contentedly beside Clint and Natasha for the rest of the night. There were no further dreams.


	87. The Checkup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athena tends to Tony. Steve gets a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Athena feels because I want to, that's why.  
> Honestly she was just supposed to be a one off character and then I just...woops. That totally worked out.  
> Anyway, Tony isn't too badly banged up because while yes, the suit wasn't sturdy, it wasn't exactly making him weaker either; it shielded him from the initial impact despite cutting into them. So he has more lacerations and a bit of bruising over broken bones.   
> This is kind of a fluffy interim chapter; we'll get back to the plot action next one, promise! And less time between updates.

Steve awoke the next morning to the scent of blood. 

He snarled, low and deep in his throat, until he felt Tony's body snug and warm beside him. The reactor still hummed and pulsed. Tony was alive—though perhaps hurting. 

Steve nudged Tony awake gently, shaking him lightly until his lover stirred, blinking up at him blearily, as if confused by his presence. Once his eyes focused and he saw who was waking him up, though, his face split into a wide grin and he nuzzled at Steve's hand. Steve kissed his forehead.

"Good morning, darling," he murmured, "I've got to change your bandages, all right? Can you get up for me?"

"Mhm..." Tony replied. "Didn't break anything, I don't think. I might have a sprain in my wrist, though, it really hurts..."

"I suppose the armor was enough to keep you from breaking much, but I can call a doctor about the sprain. Is there anyone you want in particular?" Steve asked. Tony groaned, sitting up in bed, biting back a shriek of pain as he leaned on the wrist in question.

"If she's back by now, get Athena. She's probably going to want to bite my head off for getting beaten up again anyway." Tony mumbled. Steve tensed.

"If you _really_ think she's going to be allowed to come in here and cause you _any_ form of distress, you honestly don't know what I meant by _take care of you_ , do you?" Steve snapped. Tony snorted, grinning up at him.

"S'fine. She won't really yell at me. Not if I'm really hurt. Can you call her?" Tony hugged his pillow and sighed. "She's the only one of those S.H.I.E.L.D. fucks I trust 'sides our Phil and Clinty and Nattie."

"You do know if you ever call either of them Clinty or Nattie to their face, they will make your life very, _very_ difficult." Steve said, dialing Athena and trying not to smile. Tony snorted.

"To their _face_ , never. And not to Phil's, either, 'cause I think he'd either start using the nicknames or kneecap me then and there." Tony said. Steve ruffled his hair, taking off his blankets with one hand so that he could start up on the bandages. 

The phone rang in his ear for a time until finally, a strong voice was in his ear; " _Steve? Is Tony all right? We just got back last night—does he need medical attention, why did it_ take _this long_ —”

“Athena, I took care of him. He’s mostly fine—I have experience with combat injuries—but he thinks his wrist is sprained, and I’d rather my darling be looked over by someone who can take a better look at him. Can you take a look at it here? I don’t want him leaving the house.” Steve said. 

There was silence on the line for a second.

 _“All right, I’ll bring some equipment over. You change his bandages and check the stitches, I’ll be over in a half hour; don't rebandage them, though, I'll take a look at the cuts. Don’t give him any medicine yet either; I don’t need him loopy for the examination. I’ll bring you something to help him along. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s got good medicine, I’ll give them that_.” Athena laughed bitterly. Steve flinched, but did not reply.

 _“I’ll see you soon, Captain,”_ Athena said. _“Take care of Tony before I get there to do it.”_

“I always am.” Steve promised before he hung up. 

He looked back at Tony and kissed his forehead, putting a gentle hand on his belly. Tony practically purred when he scratched it, and Steve couldn't help but smile, even as his fingers skimmed over wounds.

"Would you like breakfast, darling? Are you up to it?" Steve asked. Tony nodded, settling back into bed. Steve nodded. "All right; JARVIS? Can you get something for Tony? I don't care how, or what, but please have someone get it up here. I need to change his bandages..."

 _"It is all right, Captain. The others are here to help you. I'm certain there is already breakfast being prepared, but if not, I shall ask Ms. Potts. That said, upon checking Tony's vitals for myself, I would recommend something iron-rich? He has lost a lot of blood._ " JARVIS suggested. Steve nodded.

"I don't think my darling would complain about cheeseburgers for breakfast—"

"He wouldn't." Tony mumbled from his bed, as satisfied as a cat with cream. Steve huffed and smiled.

"You heard him. Something for his blood sugar as well, please. I'll get to work on cleaning and rebandaging immediately. Thank you, JARVIS." Steve said.

" _No, Captain. Thank_ you. _You have saved Anthony. He means a great deal to me; he is my creator and my friend. And he means just as much to many others, even if he does not see it. Thank you, Captain. You are the only reason he is still safe at home. I am...grateful_." JARVIS said.

If he'd had a body, Steve might've hugged him. As it was, he stood up straighter and saluted.

He heard JARVIS talking to Pepper downstairs, so he turned without hesitation back to Tony, setting upon his bandages and unraveling them as gently and quickly as he could manage. Tony hummed quietly, pleasantly, showing Steve he was fine and unharmed from any gestures. Steve kissed his forehead and smiled.

He bit his lip as the cuts were revealed to him; they were massive gashes, gaping wounds, even the stitches insufficent to stop the trickles of blood that leaked forth every time Tony shifted even a little. He wanted only to fix up Tony's bandages like he had promised, but Athena knew more than him...and he had to trust Tony's care to someone who could tend to it better, even if it wasn't him. That was what genuine care and love was about. If he witheld Tony the best care he could find him on the basis that _he_ should be the only one taking care of him...then he would not be a very good lover.

Steve kissed Tony's forehead again and climbed into bed beside him. He stroked Tony's hair; the only place he did not fear reopening wounds. Tony nuzzled into his touch, smiling up at Steve and reaching up to kiss his fingers. Steve laughed and playfully poked his nose.

"You're feeling a little better, love?" Steve asked. Tony nodded.

"Little. I mean...aside from my wrist. But I mean...I've been banged up before. And you took care of me. That mattered the most." Tony said firmly. "Knowing you took care of me made the hurt stop. I mean, you're Cap. I wouldn't be surprised if your tears healed wounds or something." He teased. Steve chuckled and kissed his forehead.

"I wish," he murmured, "I'd just like to cry over you and keep you safe that way. You'd never have so much as a little nick if that was how it worked, huh?"

Tony grinned and gave him a quick, warm kiss. Steve let it melt over his tongue like the first peach of summer before snuggling him into his arms, his touch as light and gentle as he could possibly make it. They cuddled for awhile longer before a knock on the door interrupted them. Steve jumped, startled, before hastily offering, "Come in!"

The entire team crept in carefully, Pepper holding a tray of food, enough for all of them. They all sat down around Tony on the bed, their eyes devouring the wounds, aching with grief for their Tony, who had been hurt without cause.

Pepper gave him bites of apple and handed him a cheeseburger, looking for all the world like she wanted to break down sobbing on his bed. Tony kissed her cheek and squeezed her hand.

"Guys, I got a little sprain and some cuts and bruises. Calm down, willya?" He grumbled. 

They didn't, though. Tony knew they wouldn't; he knew his team. They remained around him, feeding him bites of food, their expressions worried and their hands like delicate, flustered little birds as they fed him.   
Everyone was nervous, but thrilled to see him; a strange combination. Bruce chattered on about his own mission, the experiments he'd undertaken, and, in an undertone so only Tony could hear, promised him solemnly that he had seen to Pepper being treated well on the mission by the researchers. Tony knew full well none of them would want to tangle with the Hulk, as did Bruce—still, confirming that Pepper had been well-treated and safe eased a burden from his mind.

Phil had made him a cup of coffee, and in between the times where he lifted it to his lips with his good hand to sip, the two of them discussed the briefing. More specifically, how Tony wasn't allowed to attend it. Phil was clever, sly enough to spark the argument in front of everyone, Tony would give him that—any protests Tony might make were drowned out completely by everyone else agreeing with Phil. 

He didn't like it, but he did like the smile that spread across Steve's face when he agreed with a grumble to not attend the briefing.

"I never thought _you'd_ be trying to make me not come to briefings, Phil." Tony couldn't help but add snidely. Phil shrugged.

"I never thought you'd be within inches of dying horribly in front of me and ignoring your wounds despite that, so we're even." He replied.

Tony huffed, grumbled, and buried himself deeper into the blankets. Steve offered him a blueberry to stop his pouting. Tony nibbled at it, but was still very blatantly ignoring Phil. The agent just ruffled his hair.

After that was agreed upon, the whole team ate breakfast in contented silence. Ignoring Tony's wounds, it was a very normal, warm, sweet day, and they all quite liked the feeling of eating together. They were reminded of just how well-worn their bond was, and how much was communicated through gestures; like how Clint knew just when to spoon Natasha more jam, or Phil offering Pepper the salt before she even had to ask, or Bruce tossing an apple to Thor and the god catching it without even looking up, having anticipated him completely. The group was no longer a time bomb; it was a well-oiled machine made only to defend and protect. This was its refueling time, a time where they could all be repaired, and they loved it.

The whole team ate for what must have been twenty minutes, until suddenly, there was a sudden banging at the door.

 _"Doctor Danvers has come to see you, Anthony._ " JARVIS said. Tony nodded.

"Send her up." He said. JARVIS whirred, and without further warning, they heard the door flung open and the sound of boots slamming into good mahogany stairs. 

Athena flung open the door, Dummy behind her, holding medical gear in his claw. Her eyes were wild and they all tensed despite themselves at the look on her face. She took them all in, observing them for a second. In that second, her gaze softened, trembled; then she took in Tony's wounds and pointed to the door.

"Sickroom," she hissed, _"out."_

The team fled, taking breakfast with them. No one wanted to argue with her. Except Steve, who snarled and half-crouched over Tony, like a lioness defending her cub. Athena rolled her eyes.

"Except you, Rogers." She snapped. "You plug in the x-ray machine."

He accepted the wires and strange mesh from Dummy; it looked like this was a new technology he didn't know about. Considering S.H.I.E.L.D.'s technical prowess, that fact didn't surprise him. Even Tony looked interested in what Athena was using as she set up an IV and filled a drip with medicine. She didn't tell them, however. Not yet.

"...They were taking care of you." She finally said as she went over Tony's cuts with a careful eye. Tony nodded, raising an eyebrow in confusion. Of all the things to harp on, she picked that?

"Uh, yeah," he said. "What's the big deal?"

He did not know, of course, what watching a team work together so well would do to her; how could he know how many teams who worked well together she had treated for wounds made by that one sacrifice play, or broken shards of teams she had consoled in the medbay after their circle had been shattered beyond repair? 

How could he know of all the times she had seen a team so good and put together as they were try to flee—and all the times she had zipped those teams up into body bags, declared them dead, sent the pieces off to be melted down into one big pile of ashes, the togetherness they could not have had in life without sacrifice and sorrow beyond reckoning?

How could he know when she herself had never known why these things truly bothered her until she had looked upon her dreams made flesh protecting his partner, like any other agent, and realized that was _all he was_ to S.H.I.E.L.D.; not a hero, not an icon, not the greatest man who had ever lived, but a pawn, a tool, another body for the bag if he got too close to freedom?

No. No, he didn't know. And she would not tell him. She was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent; she did not give away secrets. Better to let them fester than spread the infection. It would only hurt him.

"...You're a good group," Athena murmured stiffly. "Sometimes it makes me worry."

Yes, it did; seeing all of them so tender and loving meant that their bond went far too deep for any of them to escape alone. None of them deserved to be here. But all of them could not leave. Not together. Not without at least some of them coming back in body bags. And they would come back to her. And she would know she could not save them, they who mattered so much more than she ever could.

Athena bit her lip to stop the sob from ripping its way out of her throat and forcing itself past her lips.

"Bunch of mother hens, the lot of them," Tony grumbled, but there was a teasing love to it, she could hear it, "and this one's the worst."

Steve smiled brightly.

"Good." Athena said shortly. Tony blinked, raising an eyebrow. He didn't push her, though; he was too tired and achy. Athena was grateful for that. 

She took out her med kit as she wrapped Tony's injured wrist in the mesh. Instantly, it liquefied enough to slide over his wrist and then tightened up, covering it completely. It shone silver in the light as Tony looked at it, surprised.

"It's a kind of metal mesh that contorts to fit your skin; it can X-ray just that one part of your body. We got the idea from your underarmor, actually." Athena said, fiddling with the dials on the machine that Steve had plugged in. Despite his pain, Tony puffed up with a bit of pride. Steve kissed the top of his head and sat beside him in bed, massaging his uninjured wrist tenderly as the mesh began to glow.

Tony winced, but in a few seconds, an image had appeared up on the screen. Athena frowned, examining it for a minute.

"Not a clean break, but there's definitely a sprain. I want it bandaged, Tony, and no heavy lifting in the lab, understood?" She said. Tony sighed.

"Don't make me rely on Dummy to pick up shit. You don't understand, that's actually the worst thing you could do, ever." Tony said. Athena gave him a sharp look, but before she could protest, Steve growled softly.

"I'll do it." He said. "Tony won't be allowed in the lab without my supervision—if you agree, Doctor." 

"Hey, whoa, whoa—" 

"Great idea," Athena said firmly, cutting Tony off. "You've got super-strength. If Tony needs something picked up and moved around that's over five pounds, do it for him." 

Tony sputtered. Steve gave him a sharp look. Tony glared right back. 

Athena reflected on the bittersweet amusement she felt at seeing the two of them already communicating so easily and effortlessly through simply glances before taking out her stitches and needle, and a syringe full of painkillers while they had their little discussion.

Steve glared. Tony pouted. Steve shook his head and narrowed his eyes. Tony turned away. Steve put a gentle hand on his shoulder before lifting up his injured wrist and putting it in Tony's lap. Tony turned around after that and met Steve's eyes, only to be suddenly confronted with a peck to the nose. 

After that, their gazes met, warm but firm. 

Tony finally sighed and buried his face into Steve's neck. 

Steve patted his back soothingly, but there was a grin on his face; the Captain knew he had won. Athena bit her lip and tried not to grin with the Captain; it was an infectious smile, though, and so she could not help herself, just a little.

"Pain in the ass," Tony grumbled, but he was smiling. Steve stroked his hair and fed him another bite of strawberries.

Athena took his arm and injected the painkillers, listening to Tony's little gasp of pain as the needle pierced skin, then the vein, and feeling Steve tense up. She frowned.

"Easy, Captain. No need to fuss in the sickroom. I'm just making sure it won't hurt when I stitch him up. General anaesthesia." She explained. Steve nodded slowly, still keeping a close eye on Tony.

"Some of these stitches still held from the Captain's work...but I don't like that gash on your chest. That needs to be closed better." Athena said, taking out a pair of thin, sharp scissors and cutting out the stitches, doing the same to a few more cuts before threading the thick, ugly thread through the needle and deftly stitching up the reopened wounds as well as a few more that called to her attention.

Tony was snuggled up against Steve, peaceful and staring up at his lover, eyes glimmering with genuine love. Athena sighed quietly as she lifted up his leg and stitched up a nasty gash on his calf, letting them have a moment.

She hated lovers in the sickroom. There was always such pain in there, and the surgeries and stitches were bad enough without the almost palatable fear and agony of the person watching her work on their partner, their lover. But who was she to refuse Steven Rogers? Who was she to dim the light in Tony's eyes that shone so much brighter than the reactor but only shone when he looked at him?

She was quicker than she should've been, perhaps, but it didn't matter; Steve had been so careful that she didn't have much to do but start giving them medications and giving Steve a schedule for re-bandaging and applying ointments after she had stitched Tony up and braced his wrist.

Tony slumped against Steve when it was all done, practically boneless from the anaesthesia. He giggled and nuzzled Steve's neck, giving it a sloppy kiss. 

Steve blushed and smiled apologetically at Athena. She remembered then that the Captain was probably terribly unused to PDA, and shy about his relationship still; she wondered, briefly, if Tony knew that. If Steve had said something.

From the way he held Tony close after he kissed him, though, Athena figured he was slowly but surely forgetting to care much.

Still, watching Tony, whom she had only ever known as a frustrating pain in the ass about pretty much _everything_ , from physicals to care to treatments to life in general, snuggle close and cuddle up to the man of her dreams, giving him sloppy kisses and smiling in an innocent, wholesome way that said that he trusted the man beside him with his life, knew full well he would be taken care of by him...it stung, a little. In a good way, for the most part. But she couldn't help but wonder if she had held onto the dream, like Tony had...if that might've been her. If she had suffered and never given up, like Tony had and she hadn't—if she had believed for just a little longer...if Steve would've saved her, too.

"Thank you, Athena," Steve said quietly, making her look up. He met her eyes and put a gentle hand over hers, squeezing with careful restraint. "You saved Tony. I'll take it from here on out. You did good, ma'am."

 _I could've done better,_ she thought, _I could've held onto you for a little longer—I could've believed._

But Tony, she thought as she looked down at the scars and wounds all over his skin, knowing full well how deep they reached down into his heart, well, Tony might've deserved his dream to come true more than she did.

"You're welcome, soldier." Athena said curtly. She would not cry. "Keep him safe. I don't want to be back in this room in another week, you hear?"

Her tone was light, but his eyes darkened at the meaning she had put behind them. Steve nodded, gripping Tony closer.

"Always," Steve promised, his voice thick and rough with emotion. "He's always safe with me."

"I hope so, Captain," Athena whispered, turning on her heel and leaving, because she couldn't handle this anymore, seeing her own dream playing out in front of her as if it had left her heart entirely, "I hope so, I hope so, I do..."

As she got in her car and headed back to base to report to Fury, however, she felt like she had been lying. Just a little.


	88. Thoughts and Meanderings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay! Back to work on AatA now that AMaHTS is finished! Though I confess, the work will be slow--NaNo is starting soon and this hurricane is gonna knock out my power. Good news--the work is another fic! The fic is a bit more actiony and less meandering about and melancholy, so hopefully it'll be more to your tastes if the excessive character focus here bothers you. (I totally cop to the fact that this fic is mosly 'angst feels angst angst makeouts' so y'know.)  
> Fury's still a dick. Bruce is still a fluffball.

Tony fell asleep soon after Athena left, the pain medications making him numb and lulling him to sleep with a bit of back massaging from Steve. The briefing was in a few hours, and Steve really didn't want to go, didn't know how he could face Fury, but eventually, Phil came into their room with an expression of utter frustration and contempt on his face, and he knew Fury had summoned for them.

"I can't leave him," Steve whispered. "He _needs_ me, Phil. Please. He's hurt."

"I know, Cap. I watched it happen." Coulson said. His voice was tired and low, worn down by the mission. "C'mon, soldier. Quick briefing. No lab today. You can come right back home if you want." He met the soldier's eyes.

"Can I trust you on this briefing?" He asked; not Steve, but the Avenger. He asked the man who would kill if he needed to, not the hero of his childhood.

"If you can't, Tony will die." Steve said. "And that means you can trust me. I won't kill him, Phil. We've established that already."

"I know, but...sometimes the wounds...they reopen, Cap, it's never pleasant—" Phil cut himself off and sighed, massaging his temples. Steve gave him a steady, long look.

"I'm not you, Phil," he said, his voice gentle despite the weight it carried. "I'm not an agent. I'm not a spy. I don't kill people unless there's a war on, and as far as I'm concerned, this isn't a war. Not yet. This is a game. And I won't play by Fury's rules, that's all."

_That's just it, Steve. It's a game now. But war starts as a game, too, and you're going to be out of pieces before the game ends._

Coulson steadied himself. He couldn't blurt out the truth right now. Not that he didn't think Steve would believe him—considering Tony's state, he would have no reason not to—but because...what would happen if he did? Was he really going to push _Captain America_ over the edge?

Because that would, Phil knew. It would make this war for Steve. It would make him fight like a soldier, like an avenger, like a man he never, ever wanted to see his hero become.

No. No, he would not tell him. Let Fury continue with the game for as long as he could. Phil was good at games. Phil could win games. Games were nothing.

But if it came down to war, Steve would fight. And there would be nothing and no one that could stop him from winning. No matter the cost.

Coulson couldn't help but shudder at the thought.

Yes. Let him think this a game. It would keep him playing the way he needed to so that he and the team could keep him and Tony safe.

Phil didn't have to like it, though.

So he offered Steve his hand and helped the Captain out of bed, doing his best to give him some small comfort and show his support, because even the strongest soldier needed a partner to carry him back to base.

As Steve got out of bed, he stopped for a second, his eyes falling on his shield, still at the foot of the bed.

He picked it up and held it tight against his chest for a second before turning around to Tony, kissing his forehead and laying it over his chest, covering the arc reactor—the apex of all of Tony's vulnerability.

Phil's eyes, when Steve met them after a minute simply watching Tony, showed warm approval. Steve smiled, relieved—it was the most Coulson could give him, and he relaxed a little once he saw it had worked.

Coulson made sure he dressed and let Steve give instructions to JARVIS in regards to Tony's care, heading out of the bedroom and back downstairs into the kitchen. Clint was perched on the table, chewing on an apple, a distant look in his eyes; grey and haunted, like the earth before a storm.

"You don't want him there." Clint said. Coulson sighed, sitting beside him. 

"No, I don't," he agreed. "But I don't have a choice. And he isn't me. He'll do what's right."

"No, Phil," Clint murmured. "Don't make yourself into the bad guy. You were doing what was right then, too. We were hurt. You were defending us. Steve...Steve's still doing the right thing...but this time, he's gotta defend Tony by not doing anything." He sighed. 

"I bet that'd hurt, if you told him." Clint remarked, the idea occurring to him in the sudden silence. Phil nodded.

"Probably." He agreed. "And that's why we have secrets."

"I hate this." Clint said.

"I know," Phil replied. "Not much longer. We'll be free soon."

"To do _what?_ " Clint snapped, the sudden bitterness surprising them both. 

"To live," Coulson responded, putting a gentle hand in Clint's hair. "And to do whatever we want with that gift."

He gave him a soft, slow kiss. It was soothing enough that Clint let himself go, falling into Phil's arms, at ease. Coulson helped him off the table and the two headed out to the car, looking up at the bright blue sky, seamless in its hues, all the clouds tucked away beneath its skirts somewhere,. The two of them felt like it was making a mockery of them somehow as everyone else got in the car, driving off to base.

...

Steve sat in the car and read. It was a book of Tony's; something on engineering, which Steve devoured with intensity, largely in part due to Tony's handwritten notes in the margins of each page. He didn't say a word to anyone.

The others looked at each other, careful glances of concern. No one said anything, though. If Steve wasn't killing something, they were all right. They were...okay.

Pepper didn't look thrilled either. In fact, she looked a little rumpled; like someone had been forced to push her into the car. (Natasha hadn't enjoyed the task, but Pepper had needed to attend, and devotion to Tony was no excuse for missing a briefing.) Pepper was the only one who looked at Steve and met his eyes, nodding in a way that said she understood perfectly well. Steve managed a small smile for her, because, after all, it was Pepper.

They pulled into the base parking lot, and before Phil could stop the others, they had all gotten out of the car and formed a small, loose circle around Steve. It looked casual to any observer, but power crackled within it, and its intent was clear to those who would know what to look for.

Coulson sighed. He couldn't say he wasn't proud...but he wouldn't deny it was frustrating, either. To be that blatant was to invite danger...but...

_Son of Coul?_

Phil jumped, hissing through his teeth as he looked around, shocked. The sudden brush against his mind had lasted but a minute and no more—it was quick and gentle, more curious than insistent. Hazy, as well...like it was being spoken through a dream...

Phil frowned. So. His mind was susceptible to Loki's interference. All right, then. Understandable. He had extended a helping hand to the god; no wonder he would want to call upon him. 

Still. It had seemed simple and hesitant, if that, and he didn't know how to respond; that psychic link had departed. Perhaps it was just a test—to see if Loki could reach him. 

Phil sighed and massaged his temples. He had other things to worry about right now; namely, his team. 

Coulson walked briskly to catch up to them, the whole team being led inside by Pepper; he didn't blame her for rushing ahead, considering everyone wanted to go back home and fuss over Tony at this point. She gave him a quick look.

"Everything okay?" She asked. "Migraines?"

"No, I'm fine." Phil said, shaking his head. He sighed, opening the door to the main hallway, giving her a quick look. "Just...spaced out a bit. Thought I heard something."

"Fair enough. I think we're all a little jittery today." Pepper said. She sounded almost apologetic, and definitely worn down. Bruce subtly wrapped an arm around her waist and let her lean on him. His face was tinged slightly pink and he didn't say anything, but Clint was snickering about it with Natasha until they made their way to the briefing room.

Phil opened the door, the soft hiss of the steel sliding back making them all tense up a bit as they made their way through the briefing room, sitting around the table. Pepper sat on Steve's right, Phil on his left, the others spread out around him, their faces all carefully crafted masks of neutrality. Steve's face was blank and smooth as ice, but in his eyes, the cracks had begun to show.

"Awfully surprised to see you here, Captain."

Fury's voice made them all twitch, even Phil. The flutter of his leather trenchcoat and the thud of combat boots betrayed his presence; Maria was at his side like a shadow, without such betrayal. Her eyes were bright, her face as neutral as everyone else's—save Fury, who looked immensely amused.

"Didn't we both agree you could take care of Tony? I heard from Athena that he really needs it." Fury tsked. "Phil, you don't need him to be at every briefing. You certainly weren't after Barton and Romanov got injured." 

"No," Coulson said, and Steve felt a rush of immense, profound respect for the agent when his voice did not crack, "no, I wasn't. But he's Captain America. I know he's reached a higher standard than me."

"I wouldn't say that." Steve spoke up, because he wanted to see Phil smile, he would do anything to just get that agony out of his eyes and the lines of his face. It worked, for a second, and what a glorious second it was.

"Tony is being tended to by JARVIS, and his medications have been administered. He has a sprain in his wrist and lacerations and bruises throughout his body, many of which have required stitches. Thankfully, due to the armor, he did not sustain broken bones of any kind, but the wrist may require physical therapy." Steve recited, his voice hollow. He was holding something back. They could all feel it.

"Aren't you the attentive nursemaid." Nick chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "So, I take it you all know how the mission went down?" 

"Doom attacked on the last day of intelligence gathering." Coulson said, his voice low and pained; Steve flinched, immediately realizing Phil might very well blame himself. He would talk to the agent soon. 

"He had been provoked by Tony...after gaining a piece of tech we think is the heart to his Doombots and a few blueprints, Doom wanted revenge, because he's, well, Doom. He bided his time and attacked when Tony was at his most exhausted and distracted—the final day of the mission. However, I feel it imporant to note that he didn't intend to be lethal—it was a warning. To S.H.I.E.L.D., I mean. That...we were to cease interfering in his affairs." Coulson said. "If Doom meant for it to be lethal, Tony would be dead."

The room was silent but for Steve grinding his teeth together.

"That man..." Nick sighed, shaking his head. "He's far too much of a prima donna to even consider us a real threat. We'll send in a few missiles next time, see if he's so up to opposing us then."

Steve was genuinely unconcerned about that, unless Fury meant for Tony to control the missiles. Then he would have a problem on his hands.

"About the tech and intel, sir..." Coulson began before Fury nodded, cutting him off with a wave of his hand.

"Already being analyzed, Phil. Tony did good, I'll give him that. Give him my congratulations, won't you, Captain?" Nick said. Steve jumped for a second before realizing that Fury was really addressing him. He nodded slowly.

"...Sir." He replied, his voice polite and deferential despite his bared teeth.

"Well, then; good to know there were no casualties, we got what we needed, and Stark's getting taken care of, like I told you that you could do, Captain. So," Fury said, fixating his gaze on Bruce and Pepper, "how did our other little mission go?"

"Fine." Pepper responded immediately, used to being taken by surprise in board meetings. Bruce just nodded in hasty agreement, not so used to such an experience. Fury looked at Pepper, his gaze steady and slow, enough so that eventually, Steve moved a little closer to her, a subtle but clear warning. Fury just raised an eyebrow.

"I understand the radiation experts out there found you something very fascinating, Agent Potts. Fascinating and rather useful." Fury remarked, his voice neutral.

A twitch began to spasm in Bruce's eye. Pepper folded her hands over her skirt.

"I suppose they did." Pepper said, her voice careful and clear. "Something I was led to believe had been withheld from Doctor Banner despite proven improvements towards his psyche? That useful and fascinating item?"

"That's the one." Nick agreed. "Did it ever occur to either of you that S.H.I.E.L.D. might have been waiting for the right time to reveal the serum to the doctor?"

"Like when _you_ wanted him using it?" Pepper replied.

"Of course," Nick said. "After all, we're the ones who know the effects of it best. It's better if it's kept under wraps until we're assured of its safety."

"Well, I can vouch for it myself at this point," Pepper said. "I'm pretty sure it works."

Steve blushed. Clint and Thor shared a grin. Natasha huffed. Bruce, face slightly pink, finally spoke up.

"We took it with the intent to, uhm, synthesize more in my personal labs. I figured if I could work out the formula myself, I could tweak it and possibly lengthen the time period or modify the formula to be used for other purposes." Bruce explained. 

Fury stared at him for a second. Then he sighed, shaking his head.

"Ever consider that we actually _want_ the Hulk around, doctor?" He asked. "Locking him up isn't going to do the world any good."

"Might do me some good, sir." Bruce remarked, his voice quiet. "At least, sometimes."

Under the table, he squeezed Pepper's hand. His skin was hot, like he was coming down with a fever. She massaged the back of his hand with her thumb, slow and methodical.

"The effects aren't permanent?" Fury said. Bruce shook his head.

"No, sir," he replied. "They last for about an hour, and I would only take it once or twice a day, if I really needed it, for...whatever reason."

The silence stabbed at them like knives.

"Aside from that," Pepper cut in, trying to get the humiliated look off of Bruce's face, "we managed to modify their reactors to work better and improve output, and contained the breach of radiation so that it wasn't a threat to anyone within the area. It was a quick mission, but an eventful one."

"I can certainly imagine." Fury remarked, his voice cuttingly careful. 

Pepper's eyes flashed. Bruce gripped her hand beneath the table so hard she couldn't help but wince. The look on his face hadn't left.

"At any rate, in regards to Captain Rogers' testing as well..." Fury began, holding up Steve's file. "We've started analyzing his blood, but I think a tissue sample is in order as well, to see if the ice affected anything—"

"I can't give you that, sir." Steve cut in. His voice was as polite and respectful as before, but firm. 

"Oh?" Nick turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "And why not, Captain?"

Steve gripped the fabric of his jeans, gritting his teeth for a second.

"Because...this is my body," he murmured, "and Tony said I didn't have to let anyone have any right to it if I didn't want them to. Your men took blood from me until I felt ill, Director. I don't want that to happen again."

Fury was quiet for a second. Panic and fear were evident in Steve's eyes, but he didn't break, not even as a few minutes ticked by.

"I'm sorry that happened to you, Captain. I assure you, my orders were for an average sized blood sample. I wouldn't ask you to give more than you're able. But at the very least, a skin sample—nothing intrusive, I promise, but greatly beneficial." Nick said.

The look in his eyes was clear; _you owe me. I am your superior, Captain, and you'll damn well remember it._

Steve swallowed. He did not so much as blink.

"It'll take five minutes," Fury said, "and you can head home right after. I'll assign everyone else their missions and get them back to your place, too. I'm sure you could use the help."

Steve wished desperately that he had brought his shield. Maybe if he had, things would have been different.

"Yes, sir." He said in an agonized whisper, getting up and leaving the room, heading down to the labs without another word.

Fury turned back to the others, caught the looks on their faces, and could not help but feel triumphant. He had them. They would fear him. And they would know what he could do.

He picked up the files and smiled.

"So, then...about your missions..."


	89. Tests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve comes home. Pepper is not thrilled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To every poor soul who just recently started reading this:  
> At least I'm not Homestuck.  
> Seriously I love you. Thanks to everyone who just started or has been here since the beginning, bless your souls.  
> Anyways, if you don't read AMaHTS, (you should), I'm fine, Sandy didn't fuck me up too much, just my power for a week!   
> And NaNo. Whoo boy. Any of you doing it? I'm at 20k! And it'll be up on Ao3 when I'm done.  
> Also if Steve seems a bit off this chapter, let me put this way; being thought of as a lab rat and having tests conducted on him is his biggest fear. It shook him up, a lot.

The others left the room, not speaking. Bruce's eyes were still downcast, shame clear on his face. Pepper squeezed his hand tight, a silent reminder that they would speak about it at home. Clint had begun to fiddle with an arrowhead, teeth grinding together. Natasha put a gentle hand on his shoulder, not speaking.

"Bruce is going to be in the lab for a few days, synthesizing that formula like he suggested...Clint and Natasha, you two are with me until further notice; almost time for your yearly psych eval, and I figure Fury wants you at your optimal mental state...Pep, you're assigned to Steve and Tony, overseeing Steve's care of him, and Thor—" Phil paused. He still had to speak to Thor about last night.

"I need to speak to you privately." He said curtly. Thor nodded, understanding, and let Phil lead him outside. The others fled right to the labs, intent on getting Steve out of there as fast as they could.

Thor and Phil were just out of the range of the cameras and surveillance when Phil turned to Thor and told him, "Loki contacted me last night."

Thor watched him with wide, tearbright blue eyes. Phil sighed and put a hand on his shoulder.

"He can only contact us in dreams, it seems...and he hasn't contacted you because, well...he thought you had abandoned him." Phil murmured.

The cry of agony that escaped Thor's lips was quiet and soft, but no less pained due to timbre. Phil winced and gripped his hand on Thor's shoulder a bit tighter.

"I set him right," Phil explained. "I told him all about how much you missed him, don't worry. He knows you didn't abandon him now, not without cause." 

Thor hugged him tight, gratitude clear in his embrace. 

"Thank you, Son of Coul. I am...relieved," Thor murmured. "Did my brother say anything else?"

"We talked about Fury a bit and I promised to get him out soon," Phil explained. "Aside from that, he wanted me to pass on a message after we finished our discussion." Phil looked up at Thor, his face slightly red. To pass on a message that had been so intimate and full of love felt...odd. It didn't feel right, since the message came from Loki's heart but was being passed on through his lips.

"He said to tell you he is waiting for you," Phil said. "And that he understands. And he knows you are coming." 

Thor beamed. Phil had to give Loki credit; it seemed that the other god knew his brother extremely well, considering the man in front of him looked as regal and determined as any knight of old. Thor placed his hand over his heart.

 _Brother, if you can hear me, I love you._ Thor said, his voice strong and proud as it resonated through his mind, reaching out along the roads of his subconscious to perhaps find its way to Loki. _We shall be together again soon. Rest now. I will be there for you shortly._

Down in the depths of S.H.I.E.L.D. and deep within his dreams, the words of his brother wound their way around Loki like sunlight, caressing him and wrapping him up in their golden tendrils. Loki shifted in his sleep and curled up beneath his jacket, feeling a little more snug and a lot safer.

"Let's go get the car, Thor," Phil finally said, breaking the silence rather regretfully. "The others are going to need us to be ready to leave, I think."

"I agree, Son of Coul." Thor responded, heading through the garage with Phil by his side. He sighed, giving Phil a look. 

"If...if my brother should come to you again...you _will_ help him, won't you?" Thor asked, his voice hesitant. Phil was quiet as he unlocked the car.

"...Yes," Phil finally agreed. "Yes, I'll do the best I can to help him."

Thor hugged Phil tight, letting Phil rest for a second. He knew then that the god was well aware of the burden he had placed upon his comrade's shoulders, and he grieved for it as well—but the both knew it was necessary. At any rate, they could, for a time, share the burden at least.

Phil got into the car and sank into the driver's seat, sighing through his teeth, the cool gust making him shiver a bit. Now it was just time to settle in and wait...

...

The lab technicians gathered around him like vultures, and Steve wanted to cry. He felt ill. He felt frightened. And he felt ashamed, as well; he had betrayed Tony. He had promised Tony that he wouldn't let anyone use his body...but he hadn't been able to stop him. Fury was his _superior._ Fury had let him stay with Tony. Fury...he _owed_ Fury...

Steve was strapped back into the chair, and someone held his mouth open, swabbing a cold grey wand around in it, acquiring a tissue sample. Steve gagged when the wand got pushed too far back in too awkward a position; no one noticed. 

The wand was yanked out of his mouth eventually, and another syringe, then three more, all full of blood, got taken from his vein. Steve bit back a sob. He felt something scrape against his skin, collecting the rough scraps and putting it in a petri dish.

Before they could ready another syringe, there was a knife that sliced past the head technician's face, sticking into the wall with a sharp thunk. 

"You got your skin sample, doctor," Natasha said quietly, stepping through the door to the lab with Clint at her side, bow drawn, eyes bright. "Fury asked for but a skin sample. Let Steve go."

He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could find the right words, Clint let loose an arrow, slicing it through the straps on Steve's right arm. Steve yanked his arm away to let the arrow pierce the chair's back, quivering in its place. He picked it out of the leather as he freed himself with his newfound grip, handing the arrow to Clint as he joined the two of them.

Bruce and Pepper were standing together at the threshold of the lab as Natasha and Clint led Steve out. Bruce sighed, brushing a lock of auburn hair from Pepper's forehead, tender and gentle.

"I'll be back tonight," he promised in a soft murmur, "and we'll talk then, my darling, I swear. I'm all right. I promise. You go home and take care of Tony." 

"Don't let him get to you," Pepper murmured, nuzzling his neck. "Don't be ashamed, either. Got it?"

"I...yes," Bruce replied, but it was like he wasn't really responding, not truthfully. Pepper let it pass, kissing his forehead.

"...I love you." She said to him, her voice a soft hush. Bruce smiled.

"I love you too." He said, and this time, it sounded like nothing but the truth.

She hugged him tight and left with Steve, Clint, and Natasha, leaving Bruce alone.

Deep within him, the Hulk growled; not out of anger, but curiosity, and...perhaps a bit of worry. Bruce straightened out his glasses.

"I'm fine," he said, but it was a lie and he knew it. "I'm...fine."

He went and got his laptop, pulling up the formula notes on his screen, trying not to think of what that formula had wrought for him. It would only make things worse.

...

Clint and Natasha bundled Steve into the car, snuggling up against him and worrying over him, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead. Pepper settled in beside him, and Thor as well, until the entire backseat was a puppy pile of entwined limbs and snuggled-up Avengers. Phil just looked back at them and sighed, trying not to look amused and failing. 

None of them wanted Steve to be alone. They all cuddled close for the drive home, and even when they pulled up the driveway, they would have remained close, but Steve was already bolting up the winding driveway, screaming Tony's name.

He threw open the door and went up the steps four at a time, legs pumping, scrabbling down the hallway and flinging Tony's door open, crossing the room in two wide strides and taking Tony into his arms, burying his face into his neck.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Steve whispered, his voice rough and raw, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't—I'm sorry, I didn't _mean to,_ Tony, _Tony_ —"

Tony wrapped his arms around Steve without a word, nuzzling his neck and kissing the skin. Steve snuggled closer carefully, trying not to aggravate any of Tony's injuries. Tony sighed and gave Steve a look of loving exasperation, stroking his hair.

"Okay, big guy. Ssh, ssh, ssh..." Tony soothed him, nuzzling his cheek and kissing him gently. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"I'm sorry, Tony, I didn't listen!" Steve apologized frantically. "I didn't mean to—but Fury—he, he basically said—I'm—I'm his _subordinate_ , Tony, I _had to_ —I didn't—I didn't _mean_ —"

"...Did they take any more blood, sweetheart?" Tony said. There was something dark and vicious to his voice. Steve winced at the sound before kissing Tony's forehead.

"Yes..." He confessed, "a little. Not too much—they wanted tissue samples more than anything...but I couldn't say no to any of it. I _tried_ to tell him it was my body, Tony, I _did_..."

"I know you did, babe. Ssh, ssh. I know you did. C'mere, big fella. Love you. Come here, calm down..." Tony soothed him, nuzzling his ear, nipping lightly at his lobe. Steve hummed, growing calmer by degrees as Tony tended to him lovingly.

"It's okay. I'm not angry at you or anything; truth be told, I didn't think you'd be able to follow that advice, sweetheart. It's Fury, after all." Tony sighed and hugged Steve as tightly as his injured wrist would allow.

Steve sniffled and kissed Tony's forehead, steadying himself to look strong for his lover. Tony gave him a look, stroking his hair.

"I know that was scary, babe. You don't like having tests run on you, I get it. Ssh, babe. I understand. And Fury should, too, but he _doesn't_ , because he's a manipulative psychopath. Ssh, sweetheart. Calm down. I'm not angry. Let's just stay here, sweetheart. Stay in bed with me. That's all I want. Okay?" Tony asked.

"Okay." Steve whispered in return, his voice on the verge of a sob. Tony lifted the blankets up around Steve a little more, snuggling him into bed beside him as he heard a knock on the door. He looked up and smiled.

"Hey, Pep," Tony greeted her. "You all right?"

"...Yeah, I'm fine," Pepper said. Her voice was sharper than normal and her eyes were somewhere else, warmth covered up with the greyness of stormclouds on the horizon. "I'm going to get your medicines, Tony. Steve, stay with him. Got it?"

"...Of course, Pepper," Steve replied, his voice hesitant. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine." Pepper said, heading downstairs without another word. 

Tony looked up at Steve, curious. Steve sighed.

"The Director...basically humiliated Bruce about their...relationship...in front of the team. It's not that we didn't _know,_ but—the serum—well, the one that keeps him from Hulking out during lovemaking...the Director called them out on using it. Pepper's fine, but Bruce...I don't know, Tony. But even though he didn't seem to have cowed her, it's put Pep on edge, it seems." Steve explained. 

Tony's eyes were fierce, and it was then that Steve realized just how much Pepper meant to him, and just how willing he was to protect Pepper, now that he could. It made him smile, even in the midst of his worries.

"I bet," Tony replied through gritted teeth. "I'll talk to her."

"Not now, sweetheart," Steve advised, "she's probably too on edge for it to go anywhere, and besides, it's a conversation she and Bruce ought to have privately. Just...don't push her."

The war in Tony's eyes was clear; the desire to protect a good friend and teammate and the one person who had taken care of him for longer than he could remember versus the desire to let them have their space and work this out...

Eventually, what was right won, and Tony sighed, sinking back against the pillows.

"...I suppose." Tony agreed. "But I'm going to be talking to at least Pep later, okay? Bruce too, if I can."

"If they're up to it—and if _you're_ up to it, my darling." Steve said. "We're going to be resting, okay?"

"Ugh, _fine._ " Tony grumbled, but before he could make any further protests, Pep came back into the room, a bottle of pills in her hand.

Tony got up out of bed and hugged her tight. He didn't say a word; he just hugged her. Pepper tensed up for a second before she paused and smiled, her whole body going slack with relaxation as she hugged Tony tight and nuzzled his neck.

"Love you too, Tony," she murmured. "Take your meds, okay? I'll be fine."

"Okay..." Tony agreed, taking the bottle from her hand and squeezing it gently. Pepper stroked his hair for a second before sighing heavily.

"I'll be just fine, Tony. I promise. I'm just going to go downstairs with the others and make some lunch. Would you like anything?" Pepper asked. Tony nodded. She kissed his forehead.

"I'll send it up with one of the kids so they can fuss over you too. Love you, Tony. Be back soon." She promised, heading back downstairs.

Tony got back into bed, snuggling up against Steve and smiling, delighted. This was the place his Steve ought to have been the whole time, Tony figured. He wouldn't let Steve go again.


	90. Another Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm running out of things to name chapters. How am I on ninety chapters. Someone please help me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No in all seriousness woohoo Pepper/Bruce stuff and I'm sorry it's short there's like three plot thingies going on at once there'll be another update asap I'm sorry. I really hope you all like this chapter, I'm just very drained and hope it's a good one.

Clint went upstairs for a bit with lunch and sat on the bed with Steve and Tony, the three of them chattering on about nothing in particular. The archer looked dead on his feet, though, and eventually Steve sent him down to Phil to be fussed over, ever the mother hen. Clint ruffled both Steve and Tony's hair before agreeing to it, heading back down into the living room to perch on the couch and snuggle up against Phil and Nat.

All three of them were a little nervous about their upcoming psych eval; sure, they usually passed, whether or not they actually deserved to that year, since they were too great a commodity to be passed over for missions until receiving a clean bill of health for something so trivial to S.H.I.E.L.D. as PTSD or depression, but...having to go talk to the psychiatrist made them all shiver a little.

The hours wound past and Pepper began to pace throughout the house, upstairs and downstairs and going through every room except Tony's, making cups of coffee, brewing cups of tea. Dinnertime ticked past and the others just looked at Pepper, still pacing, and very prudently ordered a few pizzas and hoped she would notice the food and eat.

Pepper paced upstairs and went back down, making her way through everything and into the foyer, so focused on her pacing that she didn't hear the door open as she stormed through the foyer and so did not notice when she collided with Bruce until her face was pressed against his chest.

He immediately swept her into a tight hug, kissing her forehead and holding her close. The two of them stood in the foyer for a few minutes, just embracing. 

Without a word, Pepper took his hand and led him upstairs into her bedroom. She shut the door and locked it. From within Tony's room, two doors down, Steve raised an eyebrow as he cuddled his sleeping Tony closer. He wouldn't intervene. But he would be on guard. If they needed help...well, he was here.

For now, though, Tony needed him more.

Steve snuggled him close and stroked his hair, sliding down so he could lean against Tony's chest and listen to his quirky heartbeat and the whirr of the reactor, trying to drown out his friends so they could have privacy.

...

Pepper looked at Bruce for a long, long time.

Then she unbuttoned her top. 

She was very careful and slow in her unbuttoning, methodical in her movement, her fingers slipping in and out of the routine, until the first four buttons on her shirt were undone. It was not off entirely, but her skin was bared, her bra on full display.

"Does this shame you or something?" Pepper asked, finally. "Are you scared of admitting you want this, Bruce? Do I fucking _frighten_ you?"

The two of them watched each other for a second. Bruce's eyes never left her face.

"Yes." Bruce said without missing a beat. "Yes, I _am_ scared of admitting how much I want you, Pepper. Because that might mean Fury will make me do something I'll regret. And _that_ frightens me. Not you. Never you. You're beautiful."

Pepper backed away a bit, so as to observe him better. Bruce did not protest; he knew she did not back away in fear. He stood in front of her, allowing her to watch him. His gaze did not drop from hers.

"You didn't think—you didn't think I really _did_ want you, maybe?" She snapped. "You _honestly_ believe I, what, that I did it out of _pity_? That I didn't think of you and tremble? Or that I didn't fight them for that serum so you could finally, _finally_ make love without worrying you would kill me? You don't think I went in there _knowing_ Fury would know, _knowing_ he would call us out, and not be _absolutely sure_ you were _worth that_?"

Bruce bit his lip. He didn't say anything. Pepper grabbed his hand and squeezed it so tight he groaned a bit in pain, his hand protesting weakly. Her own hands were shaking despite the strength of her touch.

"I _wanted this_ , Bru." She said, her voice warm and soft. "I wanted this, I wanted _you_ , I wanted _all this_ —a warm bed, soft blankets, and your body against mine. I did. I _do_. I was willing to fight for that. Because you're _my_ Bruce, you take care of me, you want—you want to be with _me_ , not Tony Stark's assistant or the co-CEO of Stark Industries, you just—you—you want _me_ , just to help me and hold me, and I have _never_ had that _ever_ , and I would fight like _hell_ to keep that feeling, to keep _you_."

Bruce moaned despite himself, so soft and low she could feel it vibrate against her skin.

"M'not their weapon," he whispered. "Yours, only yours. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you today. But I will. They will _never_ be able to hurt me again, and so they won't ever be able to hurt you. I'm going to protect you and fight with you, because I know you'll do the same for me. You'll be okay. I won't allow anything else. Because I want to be with you, to help you and hold you, and I've never been able to do that with a person, never been strong enough to control myself and keep someone else safe, and you're right; I would fight like hell to keep that feeling, to keep _you_." He kissed her forehead. "To have and to hold you forever and always. I promise, Pepper. You're not the only one fighting anymore. It's the two of us, together, fighting for each other."

Pepper stroked his hair, not speaking. She was content, for a time, to simply soak up Bruce's words, letting them fill her, running through her thoughts and seeping into her skin before flowing through her veins, making up every part of her, winding his love for her into all her atoms, binding them together, keeping the body alive and the mind functioning.

"You wanted me, then?" Pepper murmured. "You know he knows now. You know the risks. They want—they want things from you, from me, from _us_ , that we can't _ever_ let them have. You had to know that was the risk we took. And you still came to me and held me close, and we still made love. You wanted that? It was worth all that to you?"

Bruce held her tight and didn't say a word.

"Anything would've been." He finally replied, his voice quiet and soft. "Don't you know I wanted this just as much as you did, Pepper? Even with the risks?"

She kissed him with tears in her eyes after that. His hands were on her waist, supporting her, gripping her tight and holding her close.

"We're going to be okay." She promised. Bruce nodded, but there was hesitation in it. She sighed and kissed his forehead.

"Look, one day, we're gonna win. We're the good guys. S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't have a chance in hell against you or any of the others and they know it. It's why they want to keep you on their side. And when we win, it'll be okay. It'll be you and me, and if the other guy stays, well, he knows not to interrupt private time by now. We'll be just fine. And we'll have a life together, okay? You and me and chamomile tea. Sounds nice, huh?" She whispered in his ear.

That idea was more intoxicating to him than any lustful fantasy he could've conjured up; soft pajamas, blankets, a rainy day, and a well-worn book, two cups of tea steaming beside them as they settled in on the couch. He would read poetry to the beat of her heart and the falling of the rain, and the warmth of her skin, ginger and spice and the clean sunny smell of freckles, would keep him content, the beast tamed, his heart at ease.

It would be beautiful. It would be everything she deserved. And everything he wanted to give her. 

"If we win because I'm fighting this war, just know I'm fighting for you, okay?" Bruce said. "So we can be together and have a life like that. I want that, Pepper. I'll do anything for that. But...for now...just to have you with me, to do something with you I never thought I'd be able to do again...that was worth the sacrifice and the risk, too."

"You'll be able to face him, then?" Pepper asked. "You'll be able to go in there with your head held high and you won't let him hurt you?"

Bruce nodded without so much as a flicker of hesitation. Pepper gripped his hands tight.

"You won't let him control you? You won't...won't let him make you do things to me you'd never want to do?" Her voice quavered, just a little, and he knew there was fear there, but not fear of him, oh no, and he loved her for that, but fear for him, and that just made him love her more.

"Never, never, _never._ " Bruce growled, nipping at her neck as soothingly as he could. "Pep, listen—he couldn't make me, and he can't make the other guy, either. He's my basest instincts—everything that's deeper than bone and rougher than the soul. And even _there_ I know I'd want to protect you. The Hulk will _never_ hurt you. I won't let him."

"Oh, god," Pepper couldn't help but groan. "I'm sorry. I was just so scared. I can't—can't imagine..." 

She wrapped an arm over her stomach protectively, fearful.

"I can't imagine ever going through that and not wanting it...but...I think, if it was done like that, then..." She swallowed. "Not wanting it would be worse. Bruce, we _can't._ We can't even risk it. He can't get near you. Don't let him. _Please_."

"I won't," Bruce promised. "No way S.H.I.E.L.D. could drug me, the other guy would notice. I'll ask Tony to make you something that can read the contents of a drink or your food so we know you'll be safe. Promise, Pep."

"I don't...think that's necessary. Not yet," Pepper murmured. "Because he's got something—someone—else on his mind. If...if we lose that fight, though...then yeah. I'll ask Tony."

"If he's still around to ask." Bruce replied quietly.

Pepper's hands trembled as she squeezed his for solace. Bruce felt a lifetime of worry and pain in that grip; of fear for others' safety, of a raging desire to protect and being saddled with the task of guarding the most reckless man in the world, of nights spent wondering if she would finally get the call that told her Tony was dead, gone, by either someone else's hand or his own. There was a desperate desire to protect and a fear of not being strong enough to do so in that grip. 

He squeezed back, and hoped his desire to protect her, and the team, the only things he really had, somehow made it through. From the way she collapsed against him and buried her face into his neck, he had to assume it did.

"Protect him, too?" She asked, her voice soft and plaintive. "Like you protect me?"

"Of course." Bruce promised. "He's my friend too, remember?"

Pepper smiled and kissed his forehead. The kiss, unlike the feel of her hands, had relief and warmth and love in it; a promise to give all the protection she could and all the love she could as well. He was comforted beyond measure by that kiss. It spoke of home.

"You're a hero, Bru. I know that. And so does everyone else." She whispered. Bruce shrugged.

"What about the Hulk?" He asked. "Is he a hero too?"

"Yes," Pepper replied, not missing a beat. "Because even in your basest instincts, right down to your bones, you want to be a hero. And so given time, he will, too."

Bruce was quiet after that.

"I love you." He finally said.

Pepper pulled him down onto the bed and nuzzled his neck, kicking off her shoes and letting him finish the incredibly trying task of unbuttoning her last three buttons and undoing the zipper on her skirt.

"I love you too." She promised. "All of you, even the parts you think I should fear, even the parts I don't understand, and especially the parts of you that make you a hero..."

Bruce didn't know what to say to that, so he kissed her. He figured, though, from the way she moaned, that for a time, it was answer enough.


	91. What You Mean To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cute feelings and love everywhere, surprise! Discussion of a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've reached 50k on NaNo and 300k on this and what you can glean from that is my life is the life of a shambling human disaster.  
> Help me.  
> So that means back to work on AatA! I'm ALMOST FREAKING DONE, which means longer updates and stuff, and by longer I mean LONGER because NINETY CHAPTERS JESUS FUCK.  
> That said. That....will probably be another few weeks. It'll be the only thing I'm working on, because I'm as eager to see this through as you--I've spent almost a year writing this motherfucker. I want to finish it up! In the meantime, I'm promising you that the NaNo fic is vastly, vastly different. Tony is a lot more sassy, and we can all appreciate sassy Tony. Myself included; I've been writing him with too much angst lately.  
> Also Phil gets to wield Mjolnir.  
> I love fanfic.  
> Anyways, related to AatA--yeah. It's been about three months since Steve woke up, accounting for pre-Tony time, and two weeks dating. The pacing in this fic drives me crazy. But I've been spreading it out more later on; the final count will have this fic taking place over about a year. So there will be long spans of time, and SOON. Ugh, I'm so sorry.  
> Anyways, enjoy!

Tony nudged Steve awake around five and pouted at him for dinner. Steve grinned at him, sleepy and lazy and loving, and gave him a soft, smushed kiss, all aimless lips and sloppy tongue, and as he kissed him, Tony was carefully snuggled up in his bed, content and warm and smelling like fresh cotton and a cool, clean breeze, tucked away by Steve's strong hands, and with a quick peck to his forehead, Steve got up and made them some dinner.

The others had gone out to eat; Pepper had left a note. She had sounded happier. Steve hoped she and Bruce had talked it out...

He put it from his mind for the moment in favor of tending to Tony's needs; his darling needed dinner, and Steve intended to make him something warm and delicious.

He hummed contentedly as he put on a pot of boiling water. There was a box of cream of wheat in the cabinet—he had loved the stuff, back when it was cheap and easy food during the Depression, and it was one of the few things he could always keep down, even when he was sick. He hoped it would make Tony happy too...

Steve stirred the water and added a bit of salt before he brewed himself a cup of coffee; he would have to change Tony's bandages at least twice in the next four hours to apply and re-apply ointments, and he would need to be awake for awhile. Tony, however, was to sleep. Not that Tony seemed like he would mind; Steve was sure the mission had worn him out, and bed at eleven didn't seem too unreasonable when Tony was injured. They would have plenty of time to cuddle and watch a movie or just talk...

Steve smiled at the thought before checking the water, only to find that it had boiled. He added the cream of wheat mix, stirring it carefully and watching it set. He let it steam as he went to go get milk, butter, and salt, adding all of that in and humming, content, as he watched it turn porcelain-colored and shiny with milkfat.

Steve ladled it out into two bowls and spooned some into his mouth, making sure it wasn't too hot. After judging that it was ready for Tony to eat, Steve put the two bowls on a tray, along with a glass of water and his coffee cup, and made his way back upstairs.

He came back into the room, only to find Tony curled up unerneath his blankets, snoozing away. His face was smooth and untroubled, and his lips were still slightly swollen with Steve's kisses. Steve smiled and stroked a bit of hair away from Tony's face, running his thumb across Tony's cheekbone and sighing, helpless to feel anything but love and delight whenever he saw Tony like this.

Tony cracked open a single shining hazel eye and grunted amicably at Steve. 

"Dinner?" He asked hopefully. Steve smiled and held up the tray in one hand. Tony sat up and smiled, letting Steve settle in beside him, nudging the bowl towards him.

"It's cream of wheat," Steve explained. "I found some in your cabinet and decided to make it. I think it'll settle in your stomach easy—I don't want you eating anything too rich..." He kissed his forehead. "I promise, this is warm and tastes good, and I made it myself. Eat it for me, at least?"

"Smells good." Tony mumbled by way of agreement and lifted a spoonful to his lips with his good hand, swallowing it without complaint. He hummed as the warmth of the creamy mixture slid down his throat; it was milky and buttery and warmed his stomach, easing the aches and pains his body had acquired after his fight with Doom. Steve grinned, watching his expression change to one of utter contentment.

"I take it you like it." He teased. Tony nudged him, light and gentle, before spooning up a bite from Steve's bowl. Steve sputtered, smiled, and took a bite from Tony's own.

Eventually, the two of them simply ended up trading off bites from each other's bowls, grinning all the while.

Once they had finished, Steve tucked Tony in underneath his blankets and turned on the television, setting it to some mindless background chatter they could ignore while talking. 

"You look so sweet when you sleep," Steve remarked. "I don't know why you wouldn't do it more often."

Tony grinned and nudged him gently, laying his head on his shoulder. 

"You wouldn't treasure it so much if I did it all the time." Tony defended himself. Steve huffed and smiled, kissing his forehead.

"No, I would. I promise, I treasure everything about you. Especially the sweet little routines that make you Tony; like how you start up your computers with your right hand and shut them down with your left, and how you drink two cups of coffee before even trying to communicate, and how you fluff your pillows before bed, and, well...all the little things. If you could add "sleeping daily at a set schedule" to that routine, well, it wouldn't go amiss." Steve teased, his voice light and his cheeks a little pink.

Tony looked away, but his cheeks were a bit red too, and his lips had parted in what was unmistakably a smile that glistened like a star as he wrapped the blankets up around them both a little tighter.

"Maybe." He mumbled, rolling his eyes up at Steve. "I mean, no offense, but _how much_ have I slept in the past two weeks? Believe me, you're doing your job. I'm sleeping. I promise." 

"Yes, but not _enough_..." Steve groaned as Tony ruffled his hair, giving him a look before getting a quick kiss in reply. Tony smiled into the kiss as Steve rubbed his tongue against his lips just for a second, before pulling away and nuzzling his cheek. 

"Sweetheart, since you _already_ think I'm mother henning...well, we need to talk about missions." Steve said, his voice quiet. Tony swallowed and sighed, laying his head on his shoulder, immediately morose. Steve stroked his hair.

"After we do, though, we're going to plan our date." He murmured.

He felt Tony brighten up after that.

Steve continued to stroke his hair as he began, "Tony, sweetheart, look...I'm scared for you. This mission was too dangerous for you to go on by yourself, but I didn't say anything, because I trusted you. I still do. But...I don't trust S.H.I.E.L.D. to make the decisions it should to keep you as safe as possible. That was _Doctor Doom_ , Tony. And he could have _killed you_." Steve swallowed, his throat clenching up and his heart twisting viciously at the thought, serrating his insides and filling him with fear.

"No more of this, all right? Please, Tony. No more dangerous missions. Not by yourself, and not in a suit of armor you don't have finished yet! _Please_ , sweetheart!" Steve begged. "We've only been together for two weeks—the thought of _losing you_ , after waiting _seventy years_ to find you and be with you—" Steve choked, shaking his head, refusing to let any tears fall. He wouldn't frighten Tony or make him cry. 

Tony stared at him for a second.

He cupped Steve's cheek in his hand, cradling his chin in his palm, and tilted Steve's face up to kiss him, warm and soft and slow.

"Never," Tony promised, his voice rough. "You'll _never_ lose me, Steve. I promise. I'm not going to leave you. You're the best thing I've got." He looked up at Steve.

"I waited for you, too," he said, his voice quiet. "I waited all my life for you. Don't you think _I'm_ scared of losing _you_? It's just—it's just that you're a _hero_. I'm...I'm not. You have to fight the good fight and stay safe. Me? I don't matter enough. I...I gotta make the sacrifice play sometimes, Steve. Because _you're_ irreplacable...but the world can afford to lose me."

"But _I can't._ " Steve snarled, and oh, he was so angry but he couldn't help it, because Tony was stirring something vicious and deep inside him. "If I lose you, Tony, I will lose _myself_. You are _my hero,_ you are my _world,_ and that means you need to _stay safe_ and that _I cannot afford to lose you._ Do you understand? _Do you_?" Steve demanded.

Tony was breathing heavily, pupils blown, eyes wide. Steve was trembling as he gripped Tony's shoulders tight.

"I...I understand," he said, his throat convulsing, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth. "I'm sorry. I...Steve. Steve, Steve...I...god, you're beautiful." 

_"So are you_ ," Steve reminded him sharply, "and if you think I'm just going to—to let you _die,_ to get injured, to—to _leave me_ , after _all this time_ , because of a mission you shouldn't have even _taken_ —you can think again. Don't _ever_ think you're not needed. At least remember how important you are to _me_ , and how much it would matter to me if you died. If that's all that keeps you alive, I don't care. It'll be enough." 

Tony's heart hurt, so much so that tears had sprung to his eyes from the physical pain alone. The emotional ache didn't help. 

Steve sighed and shook his head.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a mix of exasperation, amusement, and love. He cuddled Tony fiercely, nuzzling his neck and kissing his cheek. Tony sniffled, but pulled it together as best he could. He would be strong for Steve. His lover deserved that much.

"Tony, hush, love. Ssh. I know it's hard to think of yourself as worth it. That's fine. I understand. But at the very least, for the moment, remember how much you're worth to me; how much I need you alive. That's a good place to start. Just remember how much I need you." Steve kissed the top of his head. "Knowing that, can you promise me that you won't let this happen again? That you won't go on a dangerous mission alone, especially one that might end up like this one did?"

Tony was quiet for a few minutes, content to simply be cradled in Steve's embrace, warm and safe, for a little while.

"...I promise." Tony finally murmured.

The weight he could feel slide off of Steve's back in sheer relief actually made him feel a twinge of guilt; his lover had clearly been so stressed and nervous about this mission, and Tony's tendency to sacrifice in general...god, he had hurt him. 

Tony settled in on Steve's lap, straddling him and stroking his hair with his good hand. He could definitely make it up to Steve. In all the ways he knew how.

He gave Steve a deep, lazy kiss, rubbing up against his tongue, settling a hand on his hip as he leaned in and supported himself against Steve's broad chest. Steve moaned and hummed, pleasant and peaceful as he nuzzled Tony and rubbed his tongue across Tony's swollen, glistening lips.

Tony pulled away to breathe, finally, and sat upright, looking at Steve with bright eyes.

"So," he began, "about our date..."

Steve grinned and kissed Tony's nose, lifting him up on a single well-muscled thigh, balancing his lover as he considered, tilting his head and humming idly.

"I'd love to dance..." Steve said. "I mean, if you don't feel comfortable doing that, I understand, but...to dance with you and take you through the park...something simple and sweet. That's all I want. If...if you're up for it."

Tony stroked his hair for a few minutes before he smiled and kissed Steve's forehead, leaning down to hold him closer.

"I think I can manage to go out dancing with my boyfriend." He murmured. "I'll have Pepper make reservations at someplace quiet and peaceful, okay? We'll go out for dinner and walk through the park if you want. Anything for you, I swear."

"Funny," Steve said. "I'd be willing to promise you the same thing."

The two of them grinned at each other and cuddled against each other for a little while, just holding each other, stroking and petting and soothing.

"Lie down and rest, okay, Tony?" Steve finally whispered in his ear. "I need to change your bandages, darling. Go to sleep. It'll take awhile."

Tony grumbled, but he did as Steve asked, lying down and remaining pliable as Steve stripped him to his briefs and unraveled his bandages, wrapping him back up gently after slicking up his fingers and sliding ointments across Tony's wounds with a gentle, feather-light touch that left Tony shaking and biting back moans.

Steve settled him in after that, stroking his hair as they turned on a movie, watching for a little while as Tony slowly nodded off. When it ended, Steve changed his bandages again, so gentle he didn't even wake him up. After that, his work done, Steve settled in beside Tony and held him close, so that if and when his lover woke up in his arms, he would know just how much he meant to Steve, and how desperate he was to keep him by his side, safe and sound.


	92. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Steve prepare for a date. Tony is messed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony Stark and his healthy views on sexuality make an appearance again, whee!  
> Yeah no this tension doesn't get resolved for awhile. Again, realistically, these are not problems that go away in a day. It doesn't help that Steve is, while loving, genuinely oblivious to how deep these issues run, or what causes them. He doesn't know how to handle this on Tony's terms, which is what Tony needs.

The next morning dawned warm and calm; today, most of them had off. Bruce could work from home on the serum formula, since Tony had set him up a workshop, and Clint, Phil, and Natasha were prepping for the psychiatric evaluations, which meant a day of quiet rehabilitation for the three of them. Pepper had postphoned a business meeting she and Tony were expected to attend to sit with Bruce in his lab, and had managed to slip past without repercussion by explaining away Tony's injuries. She would have peace for the day with him. 

As for Thor, the god was content to sit and read throughout the morning, but he wanted the same peace and quiet as the others, and so he departed for awhile to simply walk around the borough and feel the sun on his skin. He thought of his brother as he walked throughout the city, and for awhile, entertained the idea of taking him out to see the sights, to explain Midgard to his fair Loki. Surely if he showed Loki all there was to offer, he would love this world like he had come to do...

Back within the house, it was peaceable and scented like the dusty sunbeams that shone through the windows; warm and cottony, a last dying sigh of summer. Pepper sat in the workshop in a pair of shorts and one of Bruce's buttondowns, quiet and content to curl up in a beangbag she had dragged down there and watch him work, smiling as he darted about the lab table like a bird, taking in all the datafeeds, the tip of his tongue nudging against his lips as his glasses slipped down his nose.

Eventually, Pepper got up and wrapped her arms around him for a second, laying her head on his shoulder. She didn't say anything; she just contented herself with the feel of his presence.

Bruce turned, kissed her cheek, and went back to work onehanded, holding her hand in his. 

After awhile longer, Bruce finally got the hint. Grinning, he picked her up, kissed her neck, and carried her over to the beanbag chair, so that the two of them could sit curled up like cats, content and pawing at each other playfully, tangling each other up in their fingers and never letting go.

Tony woke up around noon, having missed the hustle and bustle of everyone settling into the day's plans, and promptly nudged Steve awake so he could kiss him and then whine for breakfast. After both things were accomplished, he went to take a shower. Steve fussed a bit over Tony being alone, but Tony kissed him for a little longer and soothed his fears with a reminder that he wasn't going to do anything dangerous, which was enough for Steve, just this once.

Steve went downstairs and cooked breakfast; something simple, just eggs with some leftover ham chopped up and added in. He brewed coffee and hummed, content with the warm, sunny kitchen, and the peace he had always dreamed he might one day have, preparing breakfast for a loved one, safe and sound.

He read the note on the counter and nodded; so the trio had gone out to enjoy their day and Thor was out on a walk. That was fine...Pepper and Bruce must be downstairs, then, in Bruce's workshop. Steve smiled. He was glad they appeared to have resolved their problems. 

He heard the water turn off, and jumped, realizing Tony would want breakfast. He finished it up and made them their coffee, grabbing two apples and an orange as well, placing it all on a tray and heading up the stairs, calling Tony's name.

The door swung open and Steve walked in, not noticing Tony was still dripping wet and naked, setting the tray down entirely unawares. His naivety was shattered as soon as he turned around.

Steve choked and blushed, averting his gaze immediately. Tony rolled his eyes.

"Not that I wouldn't like it if you checked me out, but I swear, I didn't do this because of that. Steve, I need you to check the reactor. Please. It hurts." Tony murmured, putting his hand over it.

That put Steve right back into aggressive, overprotective lover mode, and with a quiet growl, he crept closer and leaned in, rubbing a thumb along the reactor. 

"Does it hurt when I touch the core, sweetheart?" Steve asked, pressing his thumb against the middle. Tony shook his head. Steve nodded, running his hand around the rim. This time, Tony gasped in pain, his knees quivering as he sank against Steve for support. 

"I think we need to go down into the lab." Steve murmured. He couldn't stop the stab of fear that lanced him, and Tony could tell; it was clear across Steve's face. He sighed and kissed Steve's forehead.

"Babe, all it needs is a bit of rim repair. Nothing major; a twenty-minute job at best. We'll go down together and take a look at it. If I need to take it out and put it back in, I'll let you know. You can do it yourself if it'll calm you down. C'mon. Let's go." Tony soothed him, tugging lightly on his arm and leading him outside. 

Steve waited while Tony yanked a pair of pants on, his heart pounding in panic. He knew it couldn't be too bad. Tony looked relatively unconcerned, and he trusted Tony; the reactor was part of him. But he had seen Tony hurt _enough_ as of late, and he would be damned if his lover was in any more pain.

Tony made his way downstairs, flicking all the lights on and calling, "JARVIS? I need you to run a scan on the reactor. We think there's something up with the rim."

" _Certainly, sir. And, Steven, sit. Your pacing will disrupt the scanning._ " JARVIS said. Steve groaned. Tony covered his mouth with his hand to hide a smile. 

Steve plunked himself down on a stool and wrung his hands as a blue light bathed Tony's upper body, a 3D model rising up out of one of the work tables. JARVIS ran scans over the reactor, and enlarged it up on the screen, all its workings on display. Steve hastily grabbed a grease pencil and a spare notebook, scribbling down the inner workings for reference, fascinated. Tony looked at them intently, his tongue poking his upper lip as he hummed, deep in thought.

"Core's fine, but the rim's been worn down, and it's sliding around in the centerpiece. That would explain why it _hurts_ ; it's twisting around in there in my sleep. I'm lucky it didn't fall out..." Tony mused.

The strangled noise that enamated from Steve's throat was inhuman. Tony winced and turned around to soothe his panicked lover, giving him a quick kiss.

"It was you holding me that made sure it didn't happen, if it's any consolation." Tony murmured. "I mean, without you pressed against it...it would've fallen out, maybe." Tony grinned and tried to laugh at least a little, being brave for Steve. "I guess the reactor really does like you!"

Steve groaned, burying his face in Tony's neck.

"You're going to be the death of me." He moaned. Tony ruffled his hair.

"Yes, and what a great way to go." He said. "Now could you help me find the other reactor? We might as well check it now and see if it's suitable. If it wasn't damaged, we can use it."

Steve helped him for a few minutes, but his hand was clasped firmly over the reactor in Tony's chest the entire time. Tony didn't protest, even though being clamped against Steve made it hard to look. Thankfully, Steve's eyes were good, and soon enough, they found where Dummy had placed it. 

"JARVIS? Can you scan this one for any damage?" Tony asked. JARVIS whirred and hummed.

 _"Of course, Anthony. One moment,_ " JARVIS responded, running the pale blue light over the reactor in Tony's hand. After bathing it in the glow for a few minutes more, JARVIS beeped.

 _"No apparent damage. It is safe to put in,"_ JARVIS said. _"Though it could use a new core just in case; I assume its lack of power was why the Captain was so worried in the first place..."_

"Probably," Tony agreed. "I'll put a new core in and then Steve can put it in so he calms down. Hey, JARVIS? Did Pepper make any reservations for dinner, while we're here?"

 _"She has not yet, and she is currently enjoying some private time with doctor Banner. I could make them for you, if you would like."_ JARVIS said. Tony grinned.

 _"That_ kind of private time, or...?" Tony trailed off as JARVIS whirred.

 _"It is none of your business and you know that, but for the record, it is perfectly chaste private time. Now, is there any place you have a desire to eat at in particular.._.?" JARVIS asked as Tony began tapping something into the commands, bringing up a small silver box that glowed the same color as the arc reactor's core.

He opened it as he replied, "Someplace peaceful and quiet and tiny. Nothing big, JARVIS. Like...y'know. One of those cutesy things."

_"Does the Panello Cafe sound suitable? It mainly sells soups and sandwiches and seats about forty people, with an outside pavilion. The weather tonight is supposed to be cool, but pleasant. I think it suitable. Anthony? Steven?"_

"Sounds lovely," Steve said, grinning. "Thank you, JARVIS. What do you think, Tony?"

"Fine by me," Tony agreed, taking out the core from the box and sliding it into the reactor. The reactor hummed with renewed energy, and Tony grinned. "See? It looks fine now."

"Yes, it does..." Steve murmured, before shaking his head and sighing. "I'm so sorry, Tony. I put you in danger..."

"No, you didn't," Tony said, voice stern. "The reactor was almost out of energy, which I should've realized. The backup was a bit less ready to use than I had anticipated, which meant it didn't gel with the centerpiece. Look, Steve, either way, something was wrong; you noticed what went wrong with the first reactor, but how the hell were you supposed to know about the other problem? This isn't your fault. You did the best you could, and it all worked out." 

He kissed Steve's forehead and squeezed his hand as he offered him the reactor.

"So, you know, don't worry about it." Tony murmured. "And if you're so concerned about apologizing, maybe you could put the new one in?"

Steve knelt in front of him and planted a soft kiss to his stomach before he looked up at Tony and smiled, taking the reactor from his now-trembling hand. He took the other reactor out with gentle, firm fingers, cooing comforts to Tony when he gasped with pain, and slid the replacement in with a soft snick of connection before it began to whir.

Steve kissed the center of the reactor; Tony moaned, but it was clearly a moan of pleasure. Steve ran his thumb carefully around the rim; Tony hummed, pleased. There was no pain.

Steve sighed with relief and picked Tony up, holding him close and tight as he settled in on the stool again, supporting Tony on his lap. Tony laid his head on Steve's chest, and for awhile, they sat there, simply appreciating the feel of one another beneath their fingers.

"It's getting a bit late," Steve began, "should we start preparing now? I mean, if you want to go on the walk..."

"Nah, we'll go to dinner, then dancing, then walk home; I'll have Pep or Phil get the car. It's okay if we're out late; until I'm fixed up, your only mission is tending to me." Tony reminded him cheerfully. Steve rolled his eyes.

"Which means not letting you stay up late." He retorted. Tony whined at him. Steve groaned, but he was smiling as Tony nuzzled his cheek, and he murmured an agreement to Tony's plan after a few kisses.

The two of them remained in the lab for a little while, breakfast forgotten; Tony wasn't working too hard, simply running over some blueprints, and so Steve let him be to tend to some experiments for a short time while he reheated the food and brought Tony his coffee.

Eventually, however, after a few hours simply spent together, in quiet peace and the enjoyment of one another's presence, Tony pushed back from the table, looked up at him and grinned, and said, "Let's go get ready."

Steve followed him upstairs happily, without a single complaint or concern on his lips. Tony opened the door and they both headed in, shutting it and locking it behind them.

Steve took Tony into his arms, lifting him up and laying him down on the bed, mouthing lovingly at his neck, tender and gentle and delicate as he stroked Tony's wounds and planted warm kisses to his face and hands. Tony moaned and wriggled in Steve's grip shamelessly, his moans only getting louder and more insistent as Steve went for his shirt, yanking it up, careful not to catch it on Tony's wrist.

He undressed Tony down to his briefs and stepped back, holding out a hand. Tony watched him, breathing heavily. Steve smiled.

"Shower, sweetheart?" He said. "I figured you could use some help getting out of your clothes. Why don't you take off your bandages, too? I'll put them on again after your shower, and I'll wait out here until you're done. Would you like me to pick out an outfit you might like, darling?"

Tony wanted to scream.

"...Sure, Steve," he murmured, for he loved him deeply, and those kisses might still mean Steve would remember Tony was his property for the taking soon. "I'd love it. Why don't you start now? I'll go shower quick."

"Okay, love!" Steve said, smiling brightly as he took Tony's face in his hands and kissed him, full and warm and deep, before settling in on the bed and turning on the television, yawning lightly before snuggling against a pillow.

Tony stroked his hair for a minute, quiet and thoughtful, before padding into the bathroom to undo his bandages and lick his wounds. 

He showered alone and hated himself for it. If he wasn't so beaten up, then Steve might've wanted to fuck him. If he hadn't gotten hurt, like a stupid, worthless idiot...then Steve would've taken them, right there on the bed before their date. Or maybe they wouldn't have even gone on a date; they would've simply laid there and made love for hours, until the sunset turned to cool dusk on their sweat-soaked skin.

When he came out of the shower, though, Steve had picked him out an outfit, and so Tony couldn't really be angry. He knew that this outfit was one Steve wanted, and that meant Steve wanted to rip it off him and fuck him out of it...right? 

Yes, Steve thought he was beautiful in that outfit, and that meant Tony would be fucked tonight. Steve just must be waiting until after the date...

Steve rubbed ointments all over his skin, comforting and gentle as he bandaged Tony up, making sure they were tight and neatly wound before handing Tony his clothes.

"You like the outfit too, sweetheart?" Steve asked. Tony nodded.

"Of course. I mean, you do..." Tony murmured. Steve blinked and tilted his head, but before he could say anthing, Tony dropped his towel and stood before his lover, naked. Steve's face flushed red, and he didn't move his gaze from Tony's face...but he didn't turn away. That was something. That gave Tony a bit of hope. Now he just had to do better...

Tony smiled and dressed in the button down and slacks as seductively as he knew how, each movement of his fingers to zipper up or button slow and sensual. Steve just expressed concern over his injuries. Tony couldn't help but feel like a failure.

Then, suddenly, Steve sat him on his lap, tugged Tony's hands away, and began to kiss the first wounds he could reach before buttoning Tony up the rest of the way, kissing the cut on his forehead and squeezing his uninjured hand.

"You are the most beautiful man in the world, my lovely Tony." He crooned into Tony's ear, his tone warm and lush with love. Tony sank against Steve's chest, helpless to do anything but melt, and for a time, he could believe the Captain's words.

But Steve did not tear his outfit off and mount him, nor did he grab and squeeze at him through his pants. He just held him and stroked him, rubbing a gentle hand over the wounds and pressing gentle lips across his face.

Tony was confused, but Steve's touches were too intoxicating for him to even summon up that mental effort. He succumbed to the beauty of his lover's fingers and comforted himself with the notion that Steve was simply waiting until after their date to rut him. It was more than Tony deserved, but Steve was always so sweet to him...


	93. The Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now with bonus Steve angst! And some fluff to make it better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, sorry about update lag this week; Thanksgiving and all. Hope you like this chapter! I feel like it covers another issue with the sexual side of their relationship--as far as we know, all Steve's gotten up to is a kiss from Peggy and maybe a few wank sessions, that's it. Poor dude has no clue what to do with Tony "I bleed kinky" Stark.  
> And we do get to the date, finally! A nice happy moment. Sort of.

Steve prepared for the date as Tony reclined on their bed, snuggled up safe and sound. He showered alone, but Steve didn't mind; he didn't know what he would do at this point if he was confronted with Tony naked and wet and warm. He wasn't sure if his desire to wait would hold out much longer in the face of something so lovely.

He sighed and rubbed shampoo through his hair as he hummed, deep in thought. No, he knew it was wrong to have sex this early. It had only been a few weeks. He didn't feel ready, and he knew Tony wasn't, no matter what he said. Steve knew Tony thought he was ready for all the wrong reasons...and Steve still had to teach him what the right reasons were.

He sighed and washed out the shampoo, adding conditioner as he scrubbed soap over his broad chest, rubbing the washcloth down his thighs as well. Yes, he and Tony would learn...together. Tony did have a lot of sexual experience, as unhealthy as some of it was—Steve knew he would be learning that sort of thing soon, as well.

...Tony _did_ have a lot of experience. And he, well, _didn't_. Not in the least.

...What if Tony didn't want him? What if Steve wasn't skilled enough to please him? He...he had to learn...he had to be the man Tony needed and deserved, in all aspects.

Steve washed away the bits of engine oil that had collected on his hands from a day in the lab with Tony as conditioner ran soapy, warm rivers down his back. He tried not to think of all the ways he could fail to give Tony all he deserved as he finished washing up and toweled himself off, heading out of the bathroom without a towel on. He could, at least, display himself for his lover and hope that his body would trump his utter lack of skill...

Tony watched him with hungry, agonizingly desperate eyes. Steve blushed and swallowed, hands going to his neck out of nervous reflex.

It took him a few minutes to let his hands move, picking up his shirt and putting it over his chest, buttoning it up with slow, nervous fingers that fumbled half the buttons. Tony watched, too lost in the show to intervene.

Steve thankfully managed to get his shirt on before he went for his briefs, pulling those on as quickly and gracefully as he could currently manage. A little whimper of protest slipped past Tony's lips as Steve settled the waistband in around his hips. Steve blushed and ignored it, pulling up his slacks and slipping on a belt, before going to the closet and getting his leather jacket.

"Would you like a jacket too, sweetheart? I thought I left out your suitjacket..." Steve trailed off as he searched through the racks of clothing, sighing with relief as he found the slate-grey jacket, tossing it to Tony. He picked it up and slid it over his frame without a word, his heart still pounding from watching Steve. A lover _dressing_ had never been so sensual to him—and he'd honestly wager that maybe not even a lover undressing, either. After all, nothing and no one had ever compared to Steve. This was his lover pentultimate; everything he had dreamed of for all his life.

Tony stood up and accepted Steve's hand, squeezing it tight as Steve kissed his hand and smiled, guiding him downstairs and out to the car, the sun already beginning to sink.

Yes, Steve was everything he had ever dreamed of, all the things he had desired, the apex of his life and all its struggles to continue on, just to meet him...

...Even if he didn't want to have sex with him.

...

Steve sat peacefully in shotgun as Tony breezed through the city; the two of them had an hour to kill until their reservation, and so they drove around the boroughs and Steve got to be a part of the city again, driving through his home with the love of his life beside him—like he had always wanted.

Yes...Tony really was just what he had always wanted. Even if it had been a little surprising that was so at first. Tony was just one lovely, amazing surprise after another...and Steve was glad. He needed a lot of surprise and chaos in his life to jolt him out of his post-freezing funk. Tony and the other Avengers definitely delivered.

They chatted to one another, but it was all sweet, slow conversation; nothing major or substantial in any way. It felt like a routine conversation, something they could slip on like a well-worn robe and know that it would fit them perfectly, content in its simplicity and familiarity.

Steve was...content. It was a warm, peaceful feeling that spread throughout his whole body, and he took Tony's hand in his and squeezed it, so that he might share the feeling with the man who had caused it.

From the way Tony smiled, he figured it had done its job.

The drive towards the restaurant took them past a few parks; Steve pointed one out that had flowers still stubbornly clinging to life in the face of the sighing winds of autumn and a clear path; Tony agreed it was a pretty decent-looking place to walk, and about ten minutes from both the restaurant and the club Tony wanted to take them dancing at, which meant the decision was made from there. They made it to the restaurant, completely settled into the idea of how the night was going to go, anticipation and delight obvious on their faces as they got their reservations and found a table for two outside, in full view of the sunset.

The sunset itself was beginning to slowly but surely slowly dip down past the sky, flaring out in shades of crimson and warm, creamy orange, blending together and shining through the fat, fluffy ice-cream clouds as it sank to greet the night. Steve was smiling as he watched the stars come out, taking Tony's hand and rubbing the skin idly with his thumb.

"You have to wish on the first one, Tony." He said, his voice quiet and contemplative. "Just the first one though, okay? We'll do it together!"

Tony raised an eyebrow, but Steve was clearly beside himself with delight, and he didn't want to do anything that might dampen his beautiful lover's spirits. So he squeezed Steve's hand and looked up at the star that had just flickered into being above them.

Any wish he made was one ripped so deep from the depths of his subconscious that immediately after making it, his mind thrust it aside. There was too much pain and longing in any wish he might make.

"...So," Tony managed to venture, shoving that thought away, "what did you wish for, sweetheart?"

Steve smiled at him and stroked his hair as the waitress arrived with their menus, setting them down in front of them and smiling broadly before letting them be for a few minutes.

"It wouldn't come true if I told you, darling," he said. "But if it makes you feel better, I promise it was about you. And us. Together, like this."  
Tony's heart ached with love for the wonderful man that sat across from him, his dream made flesh; a star he had wished on years ago, back when that was still something he might do, come down to Earth to grant his one wish.

"Love you." Tony said, because nothing could describe everything he felt, but those two words were hollow enough to let all those feelings fall in and fill them up, give them meaning.

"Love you too, Tony." Steve murmured, kissing his forehead. "So—what'll we order for drinks, then?"

The two of them grinned and perused the menu for a moment before deciding. When their waitress came back, Steve ordered an espresso; Tony got an ice cream soda. When Steve made a face, Tony gave him a look.

"I'm a grown man, I can have ice cream before dinner if I want." He said. The waitress looked like she was trying not to laugh. Steve just sighed dramatically and shrugged, leaning his elbows onto the table and trying not to meet Tony's eyes. If he did, he would probably start laughing.

The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Steve began to hum a little. Tony hummed along, a small smile of contentment on his face as they matched each other note for note. The two of them nudged each other's feet beneath the table, leather sliding against leather with the promise of soft skin beneath.

It was another minute or so before Steve spoke.

"So, sweetheart," he began, "I checked your schedule, and Pepper told me there's a charity function at an art gallery nearby they want you to attend this weekend. Would..." He blushed, fumbling for his words. "...Would you like me to be your date?"

Tony watched him for a second.

Then he took Steve's hand, his face splitting into a slow, easy smile.

"Well, yeah," he said. "Who else would I take?"

Steve shrugged, shaking his head. He squeezed Tony's hand tight, and he tensed; there was pain in that grip. Tony didn't like it. It meant Steve was hurting.

"I mean, this...this is a date, right? People will see us. They'll recognize you. They're...going to know we're together." Steve murmured. "And that...that means they'll know. And if you take me to that gala, then...then everyone will know. They'll know we're dating, that you're in love, that _I'm_ in love with _you_ , and what if...what if that gets you hurt? Because of who I am and what I represent, the world will _hurt you_. Don't you think that scares me, Tony?" Steve hissed, unable to stop fear from twisting his words, making them full of panic and pain.

Tony was quiet for a few seconds, just rubbing his thumb over Steve's hand, a quiet reminder of his presence. Then he leaned over the table, planted a gentle kiss to Steve's forehead, and smiled.

"Yeah, and?" Tony finally said. "I was going to hold a press conference anyway, once my entire body stopped aching." Tony sighed. "Steve, sweetheart, listen; I'm happy with you. You don't hurt me or treat me like shit or manipulate me. I can trust you. That means...everything to me. And that means that I'm perfectly willing to be open about our relationship; because finally, after everything, I've found someone I can love and trust. And if the fact that you're a man matters more to people than the fact that I've found someone who loves me and treats me right, fuck them. I have you. I'm fine. I'll always be fine."

Steve was quiet.

"You will have every reason in the world to trust me," he finally said. "I will always protect you. I promise. None of them will hurt you, Tony. I have a shield. It's yours, Tony. It's always been yours." Steve put his hand over Tony's and squeezed it, powerful and insistent.

"You have my heart, and you have my shield." Steve whispered. "What else can I give you to keep you safe? Tell me and I'll give it. Freely. It was always yours to take, I swear."

_Your body._

Tony swallowed and kissed Steve's hand. His eyes prickled and burned with unshed tears.

"You've given me everything you can," Tony whispered. "It's all I could ask for." He squeezed Steve's hand.

"You have my armor and my heart." He murmured. "What else can I give you to protect you? Tell me, and I'll give it. Freely. I've been waiting all this time for you to take it from me."

_Your happiness, forever._

"You've given me everything you can," Steve replied. "It's all I can ask for right now. We have all the time in the world for more later."

They sat there in silence, comforting each other with the feel of their hands entwined, unspoken words wearing at the bond between them. The grip was tight, and stronger than what was left unsaid, however, and so they did not let go, not even when the murmurs around them began to start, like the building of stormclouds of the horizon.

The waitress came back over, and Steve finally read her nametag; Sharon. She smiled nervously at the two of them, a notepad in her hand, her pen bobbing in her bun before she remembered to grab it, poising it over the paper.

"So, what can I get you two?" She asked. "And, uh—would you like a table inside? Would that be better?"

"Thanks, but...no, we'll be fine," Tony promised. "It's nothing I haven't heard before." He checked the menu, humming in thought. "Oh, and a roast beef club with a bowl of minestrone would be grand, thanks."

"Another ice cream soda before dessert?" She teased, scribbling down his order. Tony snorted and nodded in agreement. Steve rolled his eyes.

"I'll have a turkey club, please...and potato soup." He said. "And an ice cream soda for myself, as well."

"Hypocrite." Tony said cheerfully. Steve glared at him.

"I'll bring them right out. You two want a table someplace peaceful, y'all let me know. Promise." Sharon said, her pen skating across the paper before she tucked it back in her bun and headed back inside.

"I think she's worried about you," Tony remarked. "Cute."

"Well, everyone else can worry about me; all I worry about is you, love." Steve murmured. Tony sighed and squeezed his hand.

"I'll be fine. I promise." He said, his voice warm and firm. Steve knew he couldn't budge Tony and so he just nodded.

Still, he moved so that he was shielding Tony from anyone on the street, his back to the people passing by as well.


	94. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The date continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy SteveTonyfest day! <3  
> So, sweetness and fluff right up until the end. :) Oops. Don't worry it's not TOO sad, promise.

The food arrived, and Steve sipped his ice cream soda in silence, watching Tony. He was beautiful, truly. The setting sun caught his face, lit up his cheekbones, accentuated the depths to his face, the light in his eyes. It made Steve ache with a desire for him; just to hold him, to kiss and stroke him.

Soon, he comforted himself, soon, when Tony was healed up. When he was all healed up, Steve could make love to him, give him everything, and let all his desires be known.

Right now, though, he would be patient. Tony deserved to be wholly ready, and Steve was good at being patient. He had already waited almost ninety years to have sex; it seemed silly to rush into it _now._  
  
Steve just took Tony's hand and kissed it, comforting himself with the warmth of Tony's skin beneath his lips, his pulse beating in Steve's ears as he turned Tony's hand over and kissed his wrist lightly. Tony moaned, trying to keep it quiet. Steve hummed a quiet tune before he lifted his lips away, letting Tony put his shaking hand over Steve's.

"Y'know, I think you're shirking your duties as an artist, dear," Tony remarked out of nowhere. "How about tomorrow I can move into your old room, relax in there, and watch you paint? All your things are in there already, and god knows I don't need paint on the carpets in the master bedroom, Pepper might actually murder me for that one. So we can go relax in there and you can paint, like you've needed to have the time to do for awhile now. Hell, if I can pull a few of the right strings, we'll get some of your stuff put up at the show. I'm sure charities would be tripping over themselves to try to get the money from a painting done by Captain America."

"I don't think they'd get too much," Steve remarked. "Phil's only got so much in his bank accounts."

Tony snorted, amused. "That's because he's never checked the one I had set up for him. Remind me to tell Clint about that, he'll tell him. Or you can. If he asks, tell him it's his pay for babysitting." Tony stirred his drink, not really noticing Steve's incredulous expression.

"Seriously, though, people would love your stuff. Why don't you paint something? It'll be fun." Tony promised, giving him a quick kiss. "And I'll be off for a few days while my wrist heals, right? S.H.I.E.L.D. only uses me for major missions anyway; other than that, they really do just let me kind of do my own thing. It's nice. We can have a few more dates, go to the gala, you'll have fun..."

"I...I suppose." Steve murmured. Tony sighed.

"You don't sound too into it, sweetheart. Look, if you don't want to—" He was cut off as Steve shook his head furiously, taking his hand.

"Tony, no! I do want to, I swear! I just, uh—aside from the painting..." Steve shrugged. "I just realized I really don't know how to do this. I don't know how to go to charity functions or behave for the press, or how...how to date you. I mean, I can give you all my love, and I want to do nothing else, I promise—but I don't know how to handle parties or social functions or anything that would require me to remember that I'm dating one of the richest, most famous men on the planet, because—because that's not what I see, not ever, I just see my Tony, my perfect, wonderful Tony, and—"

"And that's _exactly_ why I love you, so calm down, seriously." Tony said. He kissed Steve's forehead before continuing on, "Steve, listen, it's all right. I can barely handle myself at parties and I've been doing it for years. I don't think the press is going to be too hard on Captain Anachronism for not knowing what fork goes with the salad." Tony teased.

Steve glared at him for the nickname, but his eyes were shining with gratitude and love, which killed the look a little.  
  
"And if it's people you're worried about meeting—don't be. The ladies will fling themselves at you and the men will grind caviar between their molars as you accidentally steal all their dates. You're adorable, awkward, a real gentleman, and unfailingly polite. They'll love you. Just not as much as I do." Tony said.

Steve blushed, further confirming Tony's hypothesis. He grinned and rubbed a thumb over Steve's cheek, feeling the warmth bubbling up in crimson splotches beneath his pulse.

"The only date I want is you." Steve mumbled into his ice cream soda. Tony just sighed, the groan of being weighed down with so much love he didn't know what to do with it all.

"Now you stop it, we're in public," Tony chastitised him. "Keep talking like that and I might forget."

Steve's face was still doing a very amusing impression of a tomato when they got their dinner.

...

Tony nibbled at his food for awhile, content to watch Steve and muse on what the charity gala would be like. He normally avoided them like the plague; he would send Pepper in his place or make an appearance for ten minutes before going to do something that was actually important, like work on his robotics or business ventures.

But with Steve...with someone he wanted and loved more than anyone on his arm as he walked in, someone who actually loved and appreciated art, who could tell him things he didn't know, a rare delight...to have Steve there, to be able to let the world know he had found someone to treat him right, to love him and hold him and be gentle with him...

It would be amazing. Tony's skin began to crawl in anticipation. The very thought of bringing Steve with him was intoxicating; driving him through the city in the dead of night, when even the city was silent, and holding him close as they walked in, Steve utterly resplendent. He would make sure Steve was beautiful. He wasn't worried about Steve leaving with another date to hurt him or make him feel inadequate. He knew Steve would walk in there as his and leave there as his. He trusted Steve.

Tony wanted to dance with him there, too. He wanted to bring him out on that dancefloor around all those swishing skirts and crinkling suits and dance with Steve, show him what grace and agility on the dancefloor could translate to; give him hints of his future in bed.

Tony grinned at the thought, rubbing his thumb over Steve's hand as he chewed idly on his sandwich. Steve beamed at him, eating slowly, carefully; Tony found it adorable, the way Steve ate. It was in sections, nibbling at everything, before settling in on one thing and devouring it in quick, small bites.

Tony thought of the way those lips and teeth might feel on his stomach and shivered despite himself. Steve blinked, concerned, cocking his head to observe Tony better with his big blue eyes.

"Darling? Are you ill?" He asked. Tony shook his head.

"Struck down by your beauty, but if that was an illness, we'd be in the middle of a plague by now." Tony teased. Steve blushed.

"Tony! You—you..." Steve trailed off and smiled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck, his face red. "You're very beautiful too."

"For you." Tony murmured. "That's...enough, though, right?"

"Of course." Steve promised, leaning in to kiss his forehead. Tony smiled and took a bite of his sandwich.

The two of them continued to nibble at their food. As they did, Steve's mind began to wander; he couldn't help but think of the gala.

To go in there with Tony by his side and let the whole world know how much he loved his Tony, how much he wanted to be with him...it would be wonderful. Everyone would know what Tony meant to him now; what he was willing to sacrifice to be with Tony. He didn't care who hated him for his love. Tony mattered more than anything.

Once he walked in with Tony, everything would change; he would be able to watch over his lover, make sure he didn't drink, make sure that he really and truly enjoyed himself rather than just got drunk to deal with everyone...oh, yes. He would dance with Tony—that would make him happy, he was sure of it!

Steve smiled, pleased. He would love to dance with Tony to something slow and sweet and gentle; something like a waltz—he would learn to do it, just for Tony's sake. He would hold Tony close and do his best to lead Tony despite his inexperience; he would treat him gently and show him all the love he wanted to give through his delicate, careful touch.

A bit of a blush began to bloom across Steve's face at the thought of touching Tony's waist, his hips; gripping his back, even, and holding him close—

"You okay, Steve?" Tony's voice interrupted his thoughts suddenly. "You look a little ill. Is it the food?"

"No, no," Steve said hastily, embarrassed at being caught daydreaming, "it's fine! What would you like for dessert, sweetheart?"

"You." Tony said.

Steve choked on his sandwich.

"Ice cream's a good second choice, though." Tony remarked idly, finishing his soup.

Steve wasn't sure if his chest hurt from wounded pride or the sandwich he'd just forced down in one gulp due to Tony...well, being Tony. He just smiled.

"Sure, sweetheart. Ice cream sounds lovely. Would you like coffee, too?" He asked. Tony nodded, settling into his seat as Sharon came up to them again, her face slightly flushed, and took their orders.

"Yeah, coffee too, for both of us," he told her. "You okay, kiddo?" He asked, addressing her. Sharon nodded.

"Yes—just a bit flustered. There were some people inside asking after you two. I, er...had to make up a lot of things. Don't worry, they just think you're here on business." She shrugged and grinned at the two of them before heading back inside to get their things.

"Huh. Well, she's getting a good tip." Tony remarked, watching her go. Steve figured a 'good tip' in Tony's book meant 'paid for the rest of college' to Sharon. He felt a surge of gratitude towards her, tempered only by nervousness. He felt like he was trapped, lately—trapped in a series of things that were becoming bigger than himself, and he didn't know what to do about any of them...

"Hey, sweetheart?" Tony asked. There was something to his tone that made Steve's nervousness deepen. "Do...do you still want to go dancing?"

"Do I want to hold you close and stroke your hair and feel you move with me? Yes, of course. No one's going to take that from me, darling." Steve promised. Tony smiled.

"Yeah, I figured that'd be your answer. We won't stay forever, though. I mean...you're probably not used to these kind of clubs, Steve." Tony told him. Steve shrugged.

"As long as we stay away from the bar, we're fine, right? Dancing is dancing, and I'm sure you know how to dance. You can teach me how to move like you need me to, sweetheart, and I'll follow you. I promise." Steve said, leaning forward on the table and reaching out to straighten Tony's jacket. He was oblivious to the look in Tony's eyes; Steve, for all the love he gave and received, was unused to lust, even when it was clear as day on Tony's face.

"Yeah. It'll be...great. We'll dance for a little while and then walk home through the park." Tony promised. "I'll have Pep come get the car at the club anyway. She can take Nat or Phil; they're the only two other people in this place I would trust to drive my cars."

"What about Bruce?" Steve asked, tilting his head.

"I trust him to drive my car anywhere but in traffic clusterfuck capital of the world. That's just _asking_ for a visit from the Hulk." Tony replied, getting out his phone and firing off a quick message to Pepper. Steve snorted, amused, and shrugged.

"I don't know. I think maybe if Pepper took him driving...he'd like it. It would be nice. Phil told me he does that with Clint and Natasha to calm them down." Steve said. Tony blinked.

"He does? In that shitty car of his? Jesus, why didn't he tell me—hang on, babe, let me message him quick. He can have the cherry Lamborghini tomorrow, it'll fit all of them and it rides like a dream. They've got a psych eval at the end of this week, they _have_ to be calm, he can't say no." Tony said. "And I like your idea about Bruce, by the way, I'll suggest it to her."

Steve watched him send a few more messages, a small smile on his face. He waited for Tony to put down his phone before he leaned over and kissed Tony's nose.

"Has anyone ever told you how wonderful and generous you are, darling?" Steve whispered to him. "I am constantly amazed by how much you give everyone." He smiled. "Maybe I shouldn't be. After all, you've given me everything..."

Tony blushed. Steve always got a little thrill of triumph when his lover blushed; it was such a rare thing. In fact, he had only ever seen Tony blush when he said something...well, how about that? He was the only man who could make the great Tony Stark blush.

"I...no, actually. I've never been called generous." Tony shrugged. "It's a good thing that I only care about what you call me, Steve."

"Yes, it is." Steve smiled, soothing any old hurts Tony might have with the feel of his hand running across his cheek, a strong grip from soft fingers. Tony nuzzled into the touch for a minute, so lost in it that he didn't notice the ice cream getting set down in front of them, nor the coffee. Steve grinned at Sharon as he made Tony's coffee for him with his free hand, a "what can you do" expression on his face. She smiled in return and headed off to get the check for them.

"I'm paying." Tony managed to rouse himself enough to promise. Steve rolled his eyes.

"You don't pay; you're my date, Tony," he retorted. Tony snorted.

"Sweetheart, with what money do you plan on paying for dinner?" He shot back. Steve smirked, pulling a thin black card from his pocket.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.'s," he said. "I figure they owe you for the last mission. Phil seemed to agree."

"Yeah, definitely gotta tell him about that bank account." Tony murmured, a soft hitch sneaking into his words as Steve began to stroke his scalp lightly. Steve smiled as he nudged Tony's coffee towards him, scooping a spoonful of ice cream up and pressing it against Tony's lips once he had a free hand. Tony swallowed it without complaint, protesting only when Steve took his hand from Tony's hair to make his coffee and have a bite of his ice cream.

The two of them finished up, content and hopelessly in love, trading bites of each other's ice cream, strawberry and chocolate blending together in Steve's mouth, until finally, Tony leaned over and kissed him, slow and full and deep, and the taste of Tony drowned all of it out.

He broke away and grinned, his face flushed and his eyes sparkling. Steve's heart ached at the sight of Tony, beautiful and happy, really happy, and he had to hold Tony's hand then, or risk losing his grip and falling into the depths of his love for him.  
  
"You are something else, you know that?" Steve whispered, awed. "I never thought...anything could be like this. Anything at all."

"Yeah," Tony murmured. "I thought the same thing. Seems like you're full of surprises, Steve."

The two of them sat there in silence for awhile longer, just sipping their coffee and holding hands. It was peaceful. It felt, in fact, like a night Steve wouldn't mind having for the rest of his life, in a thousand different ways. But it all came back to that peace, that love—the feeling that the man sitting across him was the most beautiful man in the world, and the only one he wanted in his heart.

Sharon setting the check down on their table startled Steve out of his thoughts, and he smiled up at her in apology, handing her the credit card. She took it from him with a smile before adding, "They're still inside, if you wanna just head out this way..."

"Thank you, ma'am. I think it's easier if we do." Steve agreed.

She smiled at them both before running back in to scan the card. It only took her a minute; Steve took the card back from her and put it in his pocket as he stood up, helping Tony up and out of his seat.

"Have a good night, the both of you," she said, "and, uh...good luck! With everything!"

She fled after that, too starstruck to hold a proper conversation. Steve just smiled, content, and took Tony's hand.

Tony took out a thick wad of hundreds and put it on the table. They didn't see her find it, but the shriek of delight they heard as they made their way to the car was enough.

"You're incorrigible." Steve teased, but the smile on his face betrayed him. Tony just grinned and kissed his cheek, opening the door for Steve and getting in beside him, starting the car.

They drove off to the club, Tony getting a reply from both Pepper and Phil; Pep and Bruce would come get the car, and Phil would be happy to borrow the car, and would make sure Clint didn't get to drive it. Tony grinned, pleased, and handed the phone to Steve, who replied to both of them, adding for Phil to ask JARVIS about his bank account.

"Ready to go dancing, Steve?" Tony asked, pulling into the club's parking lot with a grin of delighted anticipation.

The smile on Steve's face gave Tony pause. There was happiness there, but...something heavier. Something darker.

"I've been ready for a very long time." Steve murmured.

He got out of the car with Tony before he suddenly picked him up, holding him in his arms and putting his hands on the small of Tony's back.

"I didn't know you were the one who would be my partner," he whispered, "but I think she would be okay with that. I think she would understand."

Tony was quiet.

"I know she would, Steve," he murmured in his ear, gentle and comforting. "She just wanted you to have a good partner." He paused for a second. "If it's any consolation...so did she. She found someone who treated her right. Someone who took her dancing."

"Okay." Steve whispered, hugging Tony close. "So I guess it's my turn to take you, huh?"

"Yeah." Tony replied, letting Steve tilt his head up and pull him into a deep, slow kiss. He understood, and so he didn't say anything about the tears he could feel mingling between their lips. He just kissed them all away.


	95. Dancing Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young and sweet, only seventeen...or ninety-four, but who's counting?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony's fun adventures in sexual inadequacy continue!  
> Man, the story's almost winding down, (in what I'm writing, not what you're getting), and it's kind of sad. I've been writing this for a year; it's become a behemoth, and I love it. It's just funny; I sort of live in my enclosed bubble of "whoashit huge fanfic," because ao3 doesn't have a forum or whatever, so I never get to talk to my rad fans. I just want you all to know you're great! I love you all so much for loving this. <3 Come say hi on Tumblr or something, okay?

The first thought Steve had when he went into the club was that it was very, _very_ loud. 

It wasn't like he wasn't used to noise, or even loud music; this was just a loudness that reverbrated across the whole club, and pulsed throughout his whole body. He could feel the music rattling around in his bones, taking up space in all his hollow, peaceful places.

Tony looked relaxed and cheerful, though; that was what interested Steve. He was sure he looked awkward as anything, completely out of place. Tony, though...Tony looked like he owned the place. The club was just as much a home to him as the mansion.

He took Steve by the hand and met his eyes, giving Steve a wicked, loving grin.

"C'mon, big guy," he murmured, "let's go give them something to stare at."

Steve couldn't help but be comforted by Tony's bravery; he found himself unable to worry about the press when his darling led him around the club and right onto the dancefloor.

A song started up—it was one Steve didn't recognize, even though he had been listening to all the CDs Tony had bought him—and before he could so much as blink, Tony's hands were on his hips, and—

Steve gasped, gripping Tony's back for support, resisting the urge to crumple. Tony was so close, so very close, rubbing against him, and good god, this was _dancing_? He could _never_ learn to do something like this!

He could, however, appreciate it. 

Tony's body was warm, comforting in the way it fit against his own. He loved the feeling; Tony fit him so well in all ways, and his body was situated snugly up against Steve's, the reactor humming against his chest, pulsing in time to Steve's own heartbeat.

"Feels good, honey?" Tony purred in his ear. "C'mon, sweetheart. Move with me a little."

"I—I don't know _how_ , Tony!" Steve confessed, his face red. "I'm so sorry—I've never danced like this—is this even _dancing_ —"

"Course it is, now shush, and do like I do." Tony murmured, gripping Steve's hips and nipping at his neck. 

Steve was very good at following orders. His body couldn't help but respond when Tony's surged against it; before he knew it, the two of them were moving in unison, even when they stepped away from one another, twirling on the floor and meeting in the middle, fitting together in the way Steve was already becoming addicted to, before darting away again. Their hands never let go of each other, entwined despite the distance; Tony pressed up against Steve and kissed their entwined grip. Steve smiled and held him close for a second, hesitantly grinding against Tony, like he had felt his lover do before.

The reaction he received from Tony was immediate and incredibly satisfying; his lover groaned in utter delight, melting into Steve's arms, his face flushed. Steve could feel his hands shaking as he held them. 

"Did that feel nice, Tony?" Steve asked, his voice pleasant and loving. In response, Tony keened and gripped his shoulders, practically panting. Steve kissed his forehead.

"I'm so glad I can make you happy, sweetheart." Steve whispered as he bucked his hips up against Tony again. Tony dug his fingers into Steve's shoulders and whimpered. Steve kissed his flushed cheeks and smiled.

"You're so beautiful when we dance, darling..." Steve murmured in his ear as he led Tony around the dancefloor, one hand on his lover's hip as he guided him smoothly through a few steps Steve remembered from watching his mother, her whole body at ease; such a rare, beautiful thing...

Tony was trembling in Steve's arms as he was guided through the steps. He followed every move Steve made, doing whatever his lover gently nudged him into; his whole mind was focused on the one singular fact that Steve was _touching him_. Steve was dancing with him. Steve _wanted him_. He had to. That much was plain. Steve would finally claim Tony  as his, and _soon_...

Tony nuzzled Steve's neck as they danced, taking the initiative to twist, turning about until his back was pressed against Steve's broad chest, Steve's hand over the reactor. Steve squeaked with soft surprise; Tony just grinned, looking up at him.

He ground against Steve slowly, just for a little while; a taste of what Steve would get to have all to himself. He was Steve's now, and Steve could do whatever he wanted...it didn't matter. His body wasn't worth Steve, but if Steve could look beyond that...

"Oh, sweetheart..." Steve kissed the top of his head. "Are you having fun dancing, Tony?"

He seemed unimpressed by him. Tony's heart ached; he wasn't good enough for Steve...why was he even bothering in the first place?

"Y-yeah," he murmured. "Having fun."

"You don't look it..." Steve whispered. "Darling, let me dance my way? Maybe I can show you what you mean to me if we take it slow and gentle..." He grinned. "I promise not to step on your feet."

Tony was helpless to resist him, even if he wasn't good enough to be his.

"Of course, Steve." Tony whispered, and that was that; he was turned around with a smooth twist and taken into Steve's strong, broad arms, and before he knew it, he was being settled into position and waltzed to the tune of some thumping R&B song.

It was strange, but Tony had done stranger. And to Steve's credit, he was surprisingly good at dancing. He was more comfortable in his body now; he led Tony about with confidence and the gentle touch that he always treated Tony to, and even when he dipped Tony and kissed his neck, he remained just as gentle and careful. 

Tony had danced, and quite often in fact, but...never like this. His heart was pounding as Steve pulled him up from the dip, his neck tingling where Steve had kissed it. He moaned softly and smiled up at his lover, trying to guide Steve's hand down to his pants. He was ready, and Steve wanted it, maybe—

Steve let his hand move down, but only to place it on Tony's hip and guide him into a smooth, easy dance again. Tony tried not to let his disappointment show on his face. 

Steve must not want to do it in public, he consoled himself, he didn't know how much of a slut he really was. He deserved to be taken in public; why Steve even _bothered_ being gentle or patient with him was beyond his comprehension sometimes, honestly. He didn't deserve it from anyone, and especially not from _Captain America_...

Tony would focus on the dancing for a little while. That was okay. That was something he could do, especially if Steve guided him through it. His lover was so gentle.

They danced like that for what felt like forever; it might've been hours, might've been ten minutes. Steve had no inhibitions; they danced, and Tony knew it was seventy years of waiting for this moment that he was receiving, all the love and longing—it was all his now. And he loved it. He wanted _all_ of it.

"It's okay, Steve," Tony whispered into his ear. "Give me everything. I'll take it, I promise...I can keep it safe with you. Bear your burden. Please, Steve..."

His lover didn't reply, but they continued to dance, and as they did, Tony got his answer anyway.

...

They stumbled out of the club and into the night a few hours later. Tony's legs were shaking; Steve was laughing, delighted, half-carrying Tony as they headed out of the parking lot and towards the park. 

"Okay, soldier, give me a minute," Tony protested, gripping Steve for dear life, "I gotta sit down for a few, okay? Just let me sit on the bench for a second..."

"Oh, of course, darling!" Steve said, settling him in on the nearest bench and stroking his hair as he sat down beside him. "You just let me know when you're ready to move again, okay?"

Tony smiled up at Steve, his heart aching for love of his Captain.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured. Steve blushed and smiled as Tony kissed his forehead. "I'm so glad you're the one walking me home. I couldn't ask for anyone better."

Steve just wrapped an arm around him, his grip tight and comforting. The two sat there in silence and peace for a few minutes until Tony was ready to head home. They set off for the park without a word.

Tony was snuggled into Steve's embrace, just content to be supported as he was walked home. It felt good to be walking home without being falling-down drunk; being supported just because he was loved and wanted, not because he could barely stand and had to be dragged home for sex. It was nice to have a lover who just wanted to hold him, no strings attached.

Steve held his hand as they reached the park gates; Tony checked the map and hummed, pleased.

"There's an entrance about a mile down from here that leads down towards the mansion. It's the third one we'll pass." He said. Steve nodded, taking his hand and squeezing it as he led Tony into the park.

"It must look beautiful once autumn really kicks in..." Steve murmured. Tony nodded, walking by Steve's side and pointing up at the trees. 

"Yeah, I've been here before; it always looks amazing. We'll come back sometime next week, it'll be almost November, so the leaves should start turning by then." Tony promised. Steve smiled.

"I would love that, Tony. Thank you." He kissed Tony's hand as they walked on, winding their way down the path. The trees rustled at them, as if in greeting; Steve knelt and plucked a flower that had grown by itself next to the pathway, as if it was an offering. He smiled and kissed Tony's forehead, slipping the flower stem behind his ear while his lover was distracted by the kiss.

Tony grimaced, a blush spreading across his face; before he could swipe the flower away, though, he heard Steve's soft, pleased laugh. He stopped trying to take it off then, his hand leaving his face and going to cup Steve's cheek.

He just looked at Steve for a minute, taking in his face; the soft beauty of his eyes, the strength of his jawline, the sharpness of his cheekbones, and the pale pink fullness of his lips.

Tony leaned in and gave Steve a kiss. The flower's petals brushed against Steve's cheek, and he smiled into the kiss, pleased.

The two of them continued their walk after that, heading up the road as the stars twinkled above them, guiding them all the way home.

Steve didn't need to wish on a single one of them. He suspected he never would again. After all, he had already gotten everything he could ever want.


	96. Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tries. Steve gets a gold star.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of light sexual stuff in here, but Steve doesn't even take his pants off, so don't worry about it too much.  
> Anyways, further delving into their development as a couple and a sexual one at that; I did promise like eons ago that this would come, and this is only the beginning of it!  
> A quick mention of rape, not nearly even close to graphic, but it's mentioned that Tony's been abused before.

The two of them found their way back home a half hour later, stumbling in the doorway. Steve half-carried Tony through the foyer and sat him down in the kitchen, whereupon he straddled him in the chair and kissed him, holding him close. Tony moaned into the kiss and gripped Steve's back, practically purring with delight as he ran his hands down Steve's broad back.

The two of them kissed in the kitchen for a few minutes longer, before Tony pulled away and smiled up at him.

"How about we take this up to my bedroom, big guy?" He breathed into Steve's ear. Steve nodded and smiled.

"Of course! I'm so sorry, sweetheart. You must be hot in that jacket. We'll get changed for bed." He promised.

Tony would take that as an affirmation that he was going to be thrown down on his bed and fucked senseless now, because no one could be _that_ oblivious...right?

He followed Steve upstairs and the second the door closed behind them, he locked it. THe second after he locked the door, he was stripping out of his clothes, suit jacket first, then his shirt and belt, then his pants, socks, and briefs, until finally, hair disheveled and face flushed, he stood in front of Steve, naked and desperate and wanting.

Steve turned to him with his pajamas in his hands, a small, sweet smile on his face.

Tony's heart broke.

"Hey, sweetheart. I got your favorite pajamas! It's getting a little colder, though, so I still have to find you a warmer shirt..." Steve offered him the red silk pants, still smiling.

Tony dressed in them with shaking hands as Steve searched for a shirt and got dressed for bed himself. He managed to make it until Steve turned back to him, fully dressed; then he just gave up on ever being worth anything to Steve and broke down into hysterical gasps for air.

Steve's whole face changed with the sheer fear and concern he had for Tony in that moment; he was at Tony's side in a heartbeat, holding his lover close, cradling him in his arms and stroking his hair, cooing soft reassurances into Tony's ears as he settled them in on the bed, Tony entirely in his lap.

"Tony, darling, what's the matter—"

"You don't _want me,_ " Tony sobbed, "you don't _want me,_ I'm not _g-good enough_ , you don't _want me_ , why am I not g-good enough, I'm _s-sorry_ , I waited, I waited _forever_ and I _tried_ to keep myself safe, like I promised, I'm sorry, I'm _sorry_ —"

"Tony, Tony, honey hush, sweetheart, ssh, Tony...Tony, darling...calm down, calm down...I can't talk to you while you're crying like this..." Steve soothed him, rubbing his back and grasping his hand. Tony nuzzled his neck before suddenly jerking away like he'd been burned; Steve's heart ached.

"Sweetie, it's okay to touch me. Don't be scared, please..." Steve whispered. Tony shook his head.

 _"No it isn't!_ " He shouted, his anger muffled and muted by his tears. "It isn't okay, you don't want me, 'cause I've probably fucked half the people I've ever met at _least_ , and I get it, I mean, I d-don't deserve you, I _never_ did, I'm sorry—I just wish I hadn't been such a _slut_ , if I'd w-waited like I _should've—_ I just—I thought you'd never come _back_ , I'm sorry, I'm _sorry—_ "

_"Anthony Edward Stark."_

Steve's voice was full of something Tony didn't understand, but it stopped him mid-sentence. He looked up into Steve's eyes and winced.

"It was _never_ about deserving. It was _never_ about being good enough. It was _never_ about how many people you've had sex with. It was _never_ about whether or not you broke your promise. Tony, _stop_. I _love you_. I love you with everything I have to give, and I want you _happy._ You're hurting yourself for no good reason, and I...I can't let that happen anymore." Steve cupped his chin and held Tony steady so their eyes could meet.

"You _know_ I love you. You _know_ I don't care about whether or not you 'deserve me.' You're _more_ than good enough, and even if you weren't, it wouldn't _matter._ I don't care about _anyone else_ you've had sex with. I _never_ thought you broke your promise to me. Nothing and no one matters to me but you. _Nothing_ could ever compare to you, Tony. I _want you_. I want you in every possible way, every way I could imagine—even the ways that have nothing to do with sex. I _will_ have you, just as much as I give all of myself to you in return. But _you aren't ready_. And neither am _I_ , darling." Steve said, his voice firm.

"Yes I _am,_ " Tony pleaded, "yes, yes I _am_ , I want this so _badly_ , Steve...please, I _swear_ I'm ready...I've waited my whole _life_ to be with you..."

Tony shifted against him, rubbing himself against the front of Steve's pants, looking up at Steve with plaintive, desperate eyes.

"You want me, don't you?" Tony whispered. "You want me a whole lot." He closed his eyes and shivered. "You could have me any way you wanted, you know. I'm all yours. You can do whatever you want with me, and I promise, I'll never protest...you can do whatever you want. I don't...I don't deserve to be fussed over, I've been fucked too often for it to really matter. You could do me dry or hit me or—"

"Tony, _enough!_ " Steve snapped, his horror and fear making him lash out. "You're not going to be hurt by me! You _know that_! I would never, _ever_ hurt you! Don't you _trust me!_?"

There were tears in his eyes. He couldn't help it. Was _this_ what Tony really thought he would do? _Hurt_ him _, beat_ him, _rape him_? How much had his darling gone through?

"I do," Tony whispered, and the broken tone to his voice melted away all of Steve's anger. "I do, but I don't deserve anything else. So it's okay. At least with you, I'd want it."

Steve held him for a few minutes, because he was completely incapable of doing anything else, confronted with something like that.

That was what Tony expected.

He had to...he had to give Tony a new set of expectations; give him a new way to love that he would understand. Words...words weren't working.

Steve swallowed, his hands beginning to shake.

He didn't have any experience. He was a virgin, through and through, and he was dating one of the most beautiful, sensual men on the face of the planet. He didn't know what he was doing, or even if this was the right thing _to_ do. He just had to make Tony's pain stop. He had to do _something_ , whether or not it was the best thing he could do...

"Tony, listen to me. I'm never going to hurt you. I'll always be gentle, and any sex we have will _always_ be about your pleasure and the two of us treating each other with love and tenderness, I promise. I'll never do anything you don't feel comfortable doing, and I'll _never_ punish you sexually." Steve kissed his neck and willed his arm to move.

He contorted it until it reached Tony's shoulder; he turned Tony about a little, so that his lover was situated with his back against Steve's thigh and Steve could dip his head down to mouth at the arc reactor. For a few minutes, that was all he did; he just licked and sucked at the reactor, rubbing the rim and licking the center, nipping at the skin around it, running his tongue along the edge and tracing the lines of steel that crossed the glowing surface.

He made himself go lower. He had to. This was all Tony would understand...

Steve's hand made its way downwards until it was in Tony's lap. He didn't slip it inside Tony's briefs. He couldn't.

"Would it make you happy if we did this?" Steve whispered, and Tony was blissfully oblivious to the tears in his tone. "Would you understand I'll never hurt you if we just...did this?"

Tony moaned, utterly ecstatic, and bucked his hips up into Steve's hand, rubbing himself insistently against his palm.

"Yes, yes _, yes,_ please, I'm ready, I swear, I understand, you'll never hurt me, just _love me,_ please..." Tony begged.

He had to do it. He had to...he wouldn't walk away. This was the battlefield he had stepped on the second he had kissed Tony for the first time, and he needed to be willing to fight this fight, if only to have the chance of finally winning.

Steve grit his teeth, choked down his fears, and ran his hand over the bulge in Tony's pants.

He was slow and methodical in his strokes; he didn't go fast or grip him, or stroke him roughly. He was gentle and slow and moved back and forth, simple, soft movements. Tony moaned, his whole body quivering from those few touches alone.

"Steve...Steve, yes, _Steve_ , please, oh—Steve I'm ready, I swear, you're so _good_ , you're so good, you just feel warm and strong and _Steve,_ Steve, don't let go, please..." Tony trailed off into incoherency and vague pleas as Steve continued to stroke him, watching Tony swell and rise.

His hand was shaking as Tony reached down and gripped it. There was a light in Tony's eyes Steve didn't like.

"C'mon, soldier," he purred, "you've got permission to keep going."

Tony went to pull his pants down and Steve just couldn't take it anymore.

He jerked his hand away and shook his head. Tears began to prick at his eyelids and gather; before he knew it, he was crying, still shaking his head.

"Tony, no...please, we have to stop, I can't..." Steve whimpered, hating himself for how utterly broken he sounded. The self-loathing only intensified when he saw Tony's eyes through his tears.

"Tony, please, no...oh, baby, don't think this is because of you—darling, I'm so sorry..." Steve apologized profusely as Tony hunched over, hugging himself and closing his eyes.

Steve didn't want him. Why would he ever think Steve would want him? He couldn't even touch him. He could barely force himself to stroke him, why the hell would he ever want to fuck him? Steve was disgusted by him...it was nothing more than what he deserved. He was a slut, after all; Steve would never want someone as filthy and used-up as him, not really...

"Tony, ssh...my beautiful darling, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that..." Steve groaned, the agony of knowing he had made everything even worse making his heart ache. He had to try to fix this, he had to...

"My beautiful, perfect darling, ssh...please listen...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. _You're_ ready; you're beautiful and wonderful, and I _know_ you've waited so long, and I'm very proud of you...but..." Steve swallowed. "I'm not ready, Tony."

Tony perked his head up a little. He opened tear-bright eyes and looked at Steve, tilting his head and blinking up at him, the picture of confused, tearful pain—and hope. That hope made Steve press on, because it meant he might be able to convince Tony he was still worth all the love he could give...

"Tony, honey...I've never had sex before. I mean, I'd only been kissed twice before I met you, darling! I didn't—I _don't_...know a lot about sex. I'm sorry. I...I'm so nervous. I don't know...I don't know if I'm doing any of this right..." Steve swallowed, genuine guilt and nervous panic gripping his heart. At least he wasn't lying to Tony...

"Tony, you've got so much experience, and it's honestly impressive. I don't think you're a slut, sweetheart; I think you're very, very good in bed...and I'm not." Steve whispered, looking away and hunching his shoulders. "So...please don't think I don't want you, okay? I really do. I just...I don't know how to go about...actually...y'know...having you."

Tony was looking at him now, and the tears were leaving his eyes. Steve would've cried out with relief, but he had to hold himself steady.

"I love you a whole lot, Tony. But I'm not ready, and I...I want to learn more. I want to know what I'm doing, at least a little better, before we make love. You deserve the best I can give...and right now, I don't feel like I can give it to you." Steve mumbled, self-conscious. "Can we...maybe wait until I've learned more? Just so I don't...feel like I'm not worthy to make love to someone as good at this as you?"

No, that part...that part had to be a lie. Because _Steve_ knew it wasn't about being worthy or not. But this was something _Tony_ would understand—and hopefully, something that would make Tony realize Steve still loved him.

"...Okay," Tony agreed. "Yeah, I get it. I'm...sorry I pressured you, Steve. I wasn't thinking." He actually smiled, then, and Steve's heart ached with pure relief.

Tony cupped his cheek and kissed his forehead, grinning against Steve's skin as he pulled away just to suggest, "Maybe I could teach you a few of the things you need to know?"

Steve hugged Tony tight and settled him under the covers, spooning him gently and wrapping his arms around Tony's waist. He kissed his neck and smiled into Tony's hair, inhaling the soft, warm scent of him as relief made his whole body relaxed.

"I'd love that," Steve whispered. "I'd love that more than anything."

He would draw it out for as long as he could, and make sure Tony learned at the pace Steve thought best for him—because he knew Tony wouldn't consider it for himself. He would make sure Tony was healed up and understood what he truly needed.

Then, and _only_ then, would they make love. And Tony would finally understand just how much Steve loved him.

Steve fell asleep wholly satisfied that night; both with the date and his new plan.


	97. Meet the Press

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saying nasty things about Tony on the news is a really bad idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the updates for this have kind of been fucked over; AMaHTS has been updating more constantly and updating on AO3 is so, so painful. Here's to hoping one day they create an update that lets you keep your goddamn italics and formatting, Jesus.  
> Anyway; I'll try to get in at least one more chapter before Christmas, as a little gift to you guys, especially since this one is a bit short. I promise the next one's badass.  
> Also, I really like it when Steve gets angry and overprotective and has to restrain himself from getting violent. This and the next chapter should prove that.

The next morning, Tony awoke warm and safe in Steve's arms, smiling contentedly as he nuzzled against his lover. He felt at peace; the conversation last night had comforted him, at least a little...

Steve was inexperienced. Of course! He should've been more understanding. His sweetheart wasn't just a virgin, but a virgin from a much more restrictive era; he needed to be gentle. He was a good teacher, at least. He would make sure Steve knew what he was doing, and how to enjoy sex. And...and then Steve would want him. It would be all right. Maybe he was worth something after all.

He felt Steve stirring behind him, and he smiled, rolling over so he could look up at his lover, still smushed against his chest. The arc reactor glowed between them as Tony planted a kiss to Steve's collarbone.

"Morning, sweetheart." He murmured. "Do you feel up for breakfast?"

Steve yawned, smiling down at Tony sleepily and kissing his forehead. He inhaled the warm, musky scent of his lover and hugged him tighter, relived at Tony's apparent ease.

"Breakfast would be swell," he agreed. "Are you feeling better, Tony?"

"Mhm," Tony promised. "I...I'll teach you, okay? That way...that way you'll get pleasure, and—"

"No, sweetheart. This isn't just about me receiving pleasure, all right? We're going to make each other feel good. I promise." Steve told him. 

Tony looked a little disbelieving, but Steve's quick, gentle kisses to both his cheeks soothed him. Steve hugged him tight and smiled into Tony's hair. Tony would learn; he would teach him, and then...everything would be all right.

"I love you, Tony." Steve whispered. "Don't forget that, okay?"

"I never did," Tony promised. "I love you too, Steve." 

Steve smiled and picked Tony up, cradling him and carrying him out of bed, settling the two of them upright before undressing quickly, throwing on a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt as Tony dressed beside him, the two of them heading downstairs. 

Pepper was already making breakfast when they came in, Bruce and Clint sitting at the kitchen table while Coulson came in with the morning paper, Thor and Natasha following behind him. Steve smiled.

"Morning, everyone." He greeted them, Tony sliding into the seat between Bruce and Clint as Steve sat across from them. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, we're fine. How did the date go?" Pepper asked, a bit of worry evident on her face; the gaze she fixed them with felt more like she was worried they'd gone through a war zone than out to eat.

"It went...fine? I mean, it was lovely. Tony and I went out to eat, and then we went dancing for a little while, and then we walked home. I gave him a flower." Steve blushed. "Er...is something the matter?"

Phil put down the newspaper, his face hard and his eyes sharp.

"According to the media," he murmured.

Steve took the paper from him and read it. 

He took in without a single display of emotion the screed that damned Tony as a slut corrupting the pure, innocent hallmark of a better era with homosexuality and hendonism. He read over the dozens of insults they lobbed at Tony with not so much as a twitch of his jaw. He read the accusations, the condemnations, and throughout the article, did not so much as say a word. He didn't even breathe.

"Are all the papers like this?" He asked.

"...Most." Phil said, the tone of Steve's voice giving him pause. Beside him, his lovers subconsciously went for their weapons, preparing to defend. Pepper watched, her hand on Tony's shoulder. "A few of them aren't too bad...but the press will take any excuse when it comes to Tony."

Steve was quiet.

He turned around and got up, turning on the television in the kitchen. He flipped through channels until he found the news, settling in and watching it. His eyes betrayed nothing, and his face was equally blank.

_"Reports are coming in that notorious playboy, the ever-promiscuous Tony Stark, was seen last night with Captain America, the Sentinel of Liberty; has Stark gone too far?"_

Steve changed the channel. Another news program; this time, a commentator was giving a rant, his face red and his eyes glazed over with gleeful anger as he talked about "the integrity of America" and the "danger" Tony represented to Captain America, and thus, the nation as a whole.

He changed the channel one last time, pressing the button on the remote so hard the remote snapped in two.

Pictures were flashing on the screen; their date, a happy, beautiful occasion, hung out to dry like so much laundry, meat for the presses. Tony looked at ease, happy and safe, and with these pictures, they had undermined that.

Steve didn't say anything for a few minutes. The others were starting to get more than a little nervous when, finally, he turned around to look at them. It didn't help.

"...Can you get a press conference together, Pepper?" He finally asked. 

She would've never said no anyway, but the way Steve was talking, the way he held himself...that just cemented it.

"Give me an hour. I'll call Happy, he'll take you to the place Tony usually holds his." Pepper promised. Steve nodded.

"Thank you. I'll be ready," he said. 

"I'm going with you! You can't just—" Tony was cut off as Steve yanked him into a fierce, passionate kiss, all teeth and tongue, gripping Tony's shoulders so harshly his fingers shook.

"No," Steve snarled, his voice barely human, "you stay here. You stay here where it's _safe,_ with Phil and Pepper to protect you. I'm going to go deal with them. Because it's _you_ they hate. It's _you_ they're after. So it's _me_ that's got to give them a piece of my mind."

"Steve, please. I promise, it doesn't bother me, I'm used to it—" 

_"Exactly_!" Steve yelled. "You're _used to it_! And maybe it doesn't bother you, but it bothers _me_! Because you being used to it _isn't okay_!" 

He pulled away and bit his hand to keep himself from yelling, trying to calm himself down. He couldn't frighten his darling. He loved his darling. He was protecting his darling, defending his darling. His beautiful little Tony. He would keep him safe. He _would._

Tony watched him, his eyes wide, his lips pursed together. His hands shook. Steve pulled away, only to find blood dripping from his hand where he had bitten it. Guilt swamped him before he could think; the idea that he had hurt Tony or frightened him, the same way his own father had screamed at his mother and made her sick with panic and fear, was growing heavy and thick in his stomach. He looked away, ashamed of losing his control like that in front of Tony. 

Tony went and got a bandage, wrapping it around Steve's hand. He did not speak as he did it, but Steve understood. No one else so much as breathed.

"You stay home, darling. Because if you go, they'll try to hurt you again. I swore I would never let _anyone_ hurt you again. Not Fury. Not the press. Not anyone. Stay home, where it's safe. I'll come back, I promise. We'll have a lovely day together. Let me just handle this first, darling. Just so that they know that this will never happen again." Steve murmured.

Tony continued to watch him for a long, slow minute. A thread of understanding wound between the two of them, and finally, Tony nodded.

"Okay." He whispered. "Be safe, please?"

"I will, darling. I love you so much." Steve whispered, crossing the room to hold Tony tight, feel the warm weight of his darling in his arms and the arc reactor pressing against his heart, pulsing with heat. It gave him the courage to do what he knew he had to do. The world was Tony's enemy, it seemed—but Steve could change that. And he _would_.

He pulled away, gave Tony a quick, tender kiss, and then headed upstairs.

Pepper was on the phone, hurriedly arranging a press conference, so Phil took it upon himself to take Tony and bundle him up under some blankets in the living room. The rest of the Avengers joined them, snuggling around Tony to offer comfort.

"It really was a nice night," Tony said suddenly. "We had a ton of fun, and I'm going to go on dates with him as often as I fucking want. I'm gonna take him to that fucking charity gala and it's going to be fucking awesome. I'm Iron Man. I fucking _dare them_ to fight me on it."

Phil couldn't help but feel relieved that Tony didn't seem bothered. Steve, though...that was another story.


	98. Captain Badass Lectures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas chapter of retribution and badass Steve. For those of us who don't like sheer glurge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, y'all! Words cannot express how grateful I am for your continued existence in my life, as fans or friends or whatever you may be to me. Regardless, I treasure you all. <3  
> Happy finally makes an appearance, bless him.

Steve prepared for the conference like he was going on the battlefield.

He slid into his costume, tightened his boots, tested his gloves, took up his shield, and marched downstairs, his boots like thunder on the stairs.

 _"Sir?"_ JARVIS' voice was hesitant as Steve's footsteps fell on the foyer floor. He looked up.

"Yes, JARVIS?" He asked. JARVIS whirred.

 _"Good luck, sir. I will make sure Anthony eats his breakfast. He will be safe until you arrive home, I assure you,"_ JARVIS promised. Steve's face broke into a huge grin.

"Thank you, JARVIS. You're a huge help, bud," he said, waving goodbye as he left the foyer and headed outside, down the winding driveway and towards the car trundling idly past the gates.

Steve was ready, resplendent in his uniform sans cowl, and climbing into the car beside Happy Hogan. 

The second he shut the door behind him, he became a soldier. An _Avenger_ , even, out to avenge the wrongs wrought against the man he loved.

Happy Hogan, to his eternal credit, managed to start the car and drive.

"So, uh..." He finally said, somehow working up the courage to address the blazing ball of righteous protective fury that was seated next to him, "Good to finally meet Tony's new boyfriend. Been outta town doing a few favors for Pep, tying up Tony's affairs in Malibu...glad to be back in New York."

Steve nodded, turning to look at him. The rage burning in his eyes didn't scare Happy off. He'd seen worse.

"Pleased to meet you too. I'd shake your hand, but you're driving. My name's Steve Rogers," he introduced himself, keeping his tone as polite and sweet as he could; after all, this man was a friend of Tony's.

"I figured, what with the getup and all," Happy remarked. "So...it's really you, huh?"

"...Yes," Steve murmured, "it's really me."

"Good," Happy said shortly. "Tone's waited a long time for ya, y'know that? He's been longing for you since I met 'im back in...what, '95? Guy built his whole life around you. Y'better be treating him right, ya hear? I boxed back in college, an' I'm not letting anyone hurt Tone anymore, 'cause—"

"He's been hurt for long enough, by everyone around him," Steve said softly, cutting Happy off. "I understand, Happy. I know. Tony's told me." 

"...So...yer gonna protect him, right?" Happy asked. Steve smiled. It was not a pleasant smile; it was a fierce one, one full of righteous fury. 

"That's why we're having this little talk, the media and I," Steve replied. "Because that's _my darling_ out there that they're hurting, and I won't stand for it."

Happy looked at him for a long time.

"...I don't know how he goes through a string of some of th' nastiest, rudest, most selfish, abusive people on the planet, and then somehow lets _you_ in." Happy finally said. "Truth? I didn't think Tone even knew what a good guy looked like anymore."

"He never forgot," Steve said simply. "I was always with him, somewhere. He always kept his promise."

That only confused Happy, but Steve understood. That reminder spurred him on, and as Happy pulled up, he gripped his shield so tight his fingers ached.

"...Hey, Cap. Good luck in there, arright? Don't let 'em hurt Tone anymore. He's a good guy. He's my guy. I don't want him hurt. Take care of 'im, please? Like he wanted?" Happy asked.

Steve got out of the car and met Happy's eyes over the hood. He nodded curtly before turning and storming inside, eyes blazing, his bearing like a tiger tensed to spring, and a snarl on his lips.

The last thing Happy heard before Steve went inside was, " _Forever_."

Figuring that it was a good enough answer, Happy sat inside and turned on the radio, satisfied with the good man that the boss had found for himself.

...

Steve walked in and took his place at the podium without much hesitation. He had given a few speeches before, and not much, thankfully, had changed in this regard. Now he was more concerned about _what_ to say than _how_ to say it...

"Thank you all for coming here," he greeted the assembled reporters as politely as he could despite wanting to snap every neck in the room, "my name is Steve Rogers, and it's a pleasure to meet you all. I'm here today to discuss the rumors spreading that I am currently dating Anthony Stark."

There was silence throughout the room. They all held their breath, their eyes glittering as they waited, like a wolf watching a wounded elk fall back from the herd.

"Yes, in fact, I am. And if any of you _ever_ print anything like what I found in the paper and on the television this morning about our first date, I will make sure none of you ever print a single word for the rest of your lives." Steve said.

The whole room would have exploded, were it not full of utterly dumbfounded—and totally terrified—reporters.

Steve knew he had to be rational. He had to be reasonable. He had to protect Tony, even now—not just by lashing out, but by remaining calm enough that he wouldn't simply hammer in the nails even more. They would just crucify Tony if he lost it; blame Tony for his anger. Attribute it to the "corruption." 

He was trying, he _was_...but parts of his anger would slip through, no matter what he did, and he was fine with that. Let them see his claws. Let them see what lurked behind his shield. He was defending his lover. All would be well.

"Tony is a good man. Tony is, in fact, a _great_ man, who has personally saved from destruction not just the city, but quite possibly the _world_ , on multiple occasions. Your very newspaper buildings probably still owe their continued existence to my Tony and his efforts." Steve licked his lips, feeling dried blood against his tongue. He frowned, but did not protest; the coppery tang in his mouth was just a further reminder of his fury. He could leash it. He could control it...

Yes. He _would_ control it. This was a battlefield. He would treat it like one; he had one goal in mind now. All he wanted to do was take out his enemies here, and he would do it in one fell swoop.

"I started dating Tony Stark about two weeks ago. Due to complications regarding national security, I did not actually get to take him out on a date until last night. It was, though this is absolutely none of your business, a perfectly chaste night. Tony is not an agent of corruption; he is not a "danger" to me. I've _always_ had an interest in men. I've _always_ wanted to find someone to love and treat well, regardless of their gender. Tony didn't corrupt me. Tony _saved_ me. He is a good man, and I'm sure running headlines with him as the tarted-up hussy out to taint my innocence sells, but it simply isn't true." Steve grit his teeth.

They wouldn't print all this. He had to get it out, but he had to make it succint; enough for the world to know that not only did he love Tony, but he would do whatever it took to make sure that love was respected and his lover was defended.

"I love Tony, I intend to date Tony for the rest of the foreseeable future, and I will continue my duties as Captain America, as he will continue being Iron Man. You may criticize the job we are doing as Avengers, but I will thank you to refrain from criticizing the way we love each other, or the choices Tony has made in the past. They have no bearing on who he is now, and I do not care about any of them." Steve finished.

There was an awkward silence for a second. All the reporters looked at one another, unsure if they should ask questions or not.

"To be succinct; _stay away from my Tony_. Or I will _not_ be pleased." Steve said.

The tone of his voice let them all know just what 'not pleased' could mean when the man 'not pleased' with them was a super soldier.

One of the reporters, a brave one not a year out of journalism school, raised her hand after that. Steve didn't mind answering her question; whatever it was, it would be a chance for him to hammer home his point further.

"Captain Rogers, this is all very well and good...but, considering he is still one half of this pairing...where is _Tony_ in all this?" 

Steve would swear after the event that Tony had been waiting outside for a cue like this. Tony neither confirmed nor denied that. All Steve knew in that moment, however, was that there was suddenly AC/DC blasting over the PA system and through his microphone, and an incredibly large hole was now smoking in the wall beside him.

And then his boyfriend was standing next to him, completely suited up and looking incredibly smug. Steve could just _tell._ Even with the faceplate on.

"Standing by his boyfriend." Tony said.

Steve expended a lot of effort not to swoon.

"N-no further questions," he said, because really, he just wanted to go somewhere private and both yell at and cuddle Tony. He was done with this conference. The message had been sent. His little darling would be safe. And if they went against his wishes, they would pay. Simple as that.

Tony headed back out of the smoking hole without a word; Steve followed after him, already anticipating the heart attack this would give Pepper, even if this was actually Tony's own property he was destroying for once.

"So I take it Happy's not driving me home?" Steve finally said once they were out of earshot. 

Tony actually laughed, lifting up the faceplate to look into Steve's eyes and smile at him. All of Steve's anger melted away at the genuine love and delight on Tony's face. Still, he had to scold him. Just gently, and with lots of kisses and snuggling afterward.

"Sweetie, you know I wanted you to stay home. They might've _hurt you,_ darling; done something to you, hounded you, made you hurt...I _never_ want you hurt, Tony, not in any way." Steve murmured, his voice soft but stern as he gripped Tony's cheek and tilted his head up so their gazes met.

"I know, Steve. But I have the armor. They can't hurt me. And, on top of that..." Tony kissed his nose and pulled away to smile. "I have you. I have your shield. And I'll always be safe. Besides, since we're dating now, we should try to present a united front. You know, 'mommy and daddy' for the Avengers. That sort of thing." Tony smirked. "Oh, and you're the mommy."

Steve's face was bright red, but he just grumbled and nuzzled Tony's cheek, so he knew he had won. Tony stroked Steve's hair before wrapping an arm around his waist and gripping him tight.

"C'mon, honey," Tony told him, starting up the jetboots, "let's go home. Almost time to put the kids down for a nap."

Steve would've kicked him, had they not been at least six hundred feet in the air at that point. He just clung to Tony for dear life harder than he should have.

...

They got home and, as compromise, Steve got to carry him through the door once the armor had been put away. The others watched them, eager for a report on the conference.

"It went...interestingly," Steve began, unsure of how to put it politely.

"I put another hole in the wall." Tony said proudly.

"Of course you did." Pepper said, her voice dry.

"What really matters is that Tony's safe now," Steve cut in. "Tony will be just fine. I talked to them, I assured them that I was not being manipulated or corrupted in any way...and then we left it at that. If they want to press the matter, well, I warned them about that, too."

"I think I like my idea of 'warning' them better, though." Clint remarked, fiddling with a wicked-looking knife as he sipped another cup of coffee. Steve huffed and shook his head. 

"Your warning wouldn't have been a warning, it would've been a _slaughter._ We're the good guys, we don't do that. And besides, Tony's going to be just fine; that's really all I wanted out of the conversation, so we're good." Steve said, stretching out a little. "Now I just want to change into something more comfortable and relax."

"Yeah, enjoy today off while you can," Pepper told him. "Remember, the next few days are all about the gala. We've got to get you ready, you know that..."

Steve's mouth went dry and his heart stopped. Still, he was a brave man, and so he just nodded, smiled, agreed, and then went upstairs and promptly had a small nervous breakdown while he showered.


	99. At the Gala

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony get dressed for the gala. Clint and Natasha and Phil prepare for a psychiatric evaluation. Same thing, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, dears! It's almost been a year since I've been updating this...kind of nuts, really, but it's so worth it. Thank you all for sticking around and enjoying it.  
> Also mm, Steve in uniform. Get some, prettyboy.  
> And yes, sap and fluff. I should probably tell you that sort of comes to a stop soon. Well, I don't know how soon, it's hard to tell, there's still so much story, good lord.

The days leading up to the gala were a bit of a blur; in just three days, Steve had to prepare to meet the world as Tony's date. All the while, he was watching over his team and fussing over their well-being.

Phil, Clint, and Natasha had gotten increasingly nervous about the psych evaluation; Clint had just taken to shooting arrows out his window at whatever caught his eye, not speaking for hours at a time. He only stopped when one of his arrows accidentally hit one of Tony's cars and Tony threatened to never make him another weapon for as long as he lived. After that, he moped on the couch, never far from Coulson or Natasha.

Natasha had retreated into herself; all of them, save Clint and Phil, only realized then how truly intense and unreachable she could be. Pepper was the only one aside from her lovers who could be near her for long stretches of time. Natasha seemed grateful, though no one could tell at this point. If she was not around Clint or Coulson, she was near Pepper; never speaking, just...staying beside her. Bruce understood, and so when Natasha needed Pepper, he let her be with her; besides, he had more time to work with Tony in the lab without feeling neglectful, so he wasn't complaining.

Coulson tried to act like he wasn't nervous, but they were all so used to him as the unflappable, stolid agent; they knew when he couldn't play that part. He was slipping, just a little. Touching Clint and Natasha in public more; stroking their hair or kissing their foreheads, as if to remind himself that they were still there, losing himself in trains of thought long enough that his coffee would go cold before he drank it, his eyes going grey as his mind wandered to places no one else could traverse. He didn't respond as quickly when they called to him; indeed, sometimes, it was like he had forgotten his own name and now wandered through reality, dreamlike.

Steve did the best he could to be with Clint; he watched movies with him and chattered eagerly on about whatever he could think of, even if Clint didn't understand or care about Art Deco versus Art Noveau. In return, Clint explained all the references in the movies—and, sometimes, managed a smile.

Natasha was more content to be around women when she got like this; Steve could tell. It wasn't just a desire to be near Pepper, it was a desire to be separated from any man who wasn't one of her lovers. Steve understood and respected that, and so, simply left her a bar of chocolate outside her door; something sweet to snack on.

She didn't say anything about it, but the only time she smiled that week was when she came down for dinner that night and met Steve's eyes.

As for Coulson, Steve respected and knew his pain. He had felt that same grey loss after Bucky's death; he had lost himself in thoughts of Bucky, in memories that chained him to another reality, another time.

So he gave the other man something else to think about, a bright light in the darkness to drive away the grey that lurked about like a thick fog.

He told Phil stories of what it had been like working with the USO, fighting in the war, working with the Commandos...everything about his life before the ice. He painted fantasies in Coulson's head; ones the agent had been raised upon but could now see as reality, straight from the mouth of the man who had lived it.

Every time he told him a story, Phil's eyes lit up in such a way that no grey was left. And so Steve skipped out on more than one tailoring appointment or ettiquete lesson with Pepper to spend time with Phil. No one got annoyed after he explained why.

Still, eventually, the day of the gala came up—the day before the psych evaluation, in fact. Steve wanted to be there for his friends for as long as possible, but there was not much to be done; last-minute preparations would be the death of him. He hadn't even seen Tony yet today; his darling had been out dry-cleaning his tuxedo and Steve's uniform and getting his hair done. Pepper combing Steve's hair had been enough for him; besides, she still had things to lecture him on.

"And don't start conversations, because they're going to be quizzing you on Tony or your relationship; just wait and see if they approach you. If they do...well, just hear them out, but don't say anything that makes you uncomfortable." Pepper told him. Steve nodded.

"And don't let Tony wander off, either. If he wanders off, they'll swarm him and you'll never get him back—and he can't be separated from you, especially not now. Keep him close. He won't _want_ to be away from you, but just...make sure of it, okay?" Pepper demanded. Steve nodded eagerly.

"He won't leave my side, I swear it. Pepper, I'll take care of him, you know that, and I'll call you if he's in danger. I'm sure he'll be fine, though!" Steve said brightly. Pepper sighed and shook her head.

"I'm not, but...I trust you. Just check in once or twice, please?" She asked. Steve nodded.

"Of course, of course. I'll be careful with him, I promise. He's my darling." Steve soothed her, squeezing her hand. "Will you watch over Phil, Clint, and Natasha, please? I can't be there for them tonight, and I'm worried about their evalution tomorrow..."

"Of course. Bruce is cooking dinner with Thor, and I was going to go buy dessert and rent a movie. They'll be all right. You just go have fun with Tony, okay?" Pepper asked. Steve smiled.

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Pepper. I'll be all right..." Steve hugged her quickly before heading downstairs to await his darling.

He didn't have to wait long, thankfully; Tony's car was coming up the driveway soon enough, and he was waiting at the door. The second Tony came back, Steve smiled, delighted, and opened his arms to take him in, kissing the top of his head and nuzzling his neck as he brought him inside. Tony grinned and kissed his cheek as they made their way back inside, Steve still carrying Tony and the clothing in his arms.

"We've got another hour before we should head out, darling." Steve told him. "Would you like to stay here with me? I want to hold you."

"We gotta get dressed..." Tony mumbled a weak protest before Steve kissed him, warm and quick. After that, Tony sighed, pleased, and snuggled into Steve's chest.

They cuddled for a little while, just Tony cradled warm and safe in Steve's arms on the couch, while Steve stroked his hair and whispered about how much he loved him and how happy he was that Tony was his, forever, and Tony managed to soothe himself for awhile. He didn't think of the gala or the media or anything but Steve, Steve's warm, safe, strong arms that rocked him and stroked him and loved him. It felt nice to just focus on the safe haven Steve's body afforded him. Steve kissed the top of his head, startling him out of his musing as he smiled.

"Darling, you're right. We should get dressed, come on." Steve cajoled him, getting him up off the couch and leading him upstairs, still holding onto his hand, like even now he was scared of losing him. Tony grinned and kissed his cheek, a quiet reminder to Steve that he wouldn't.

The two of them headed upstairs, and Steve sat on the bed as Tony undressed, watching with a small smile. He wasn't ready for sex, but...Tony was so beautiful. He should tell him; it might help.

"Tony, sweetheart, have I told you how lovely you are?" Steve said, settling in and watching Tony jump, surprised. He smiled. "I love to watch you get dressed. You're so beautiful."

Tony shifted from foot to foot, actually knocked off his guard by the compliment, before just huffing and shrugging.

"Thanks, Steve. I...I like watching you too, I guess." He mumbled, stripping down and rifling through his drawers for another pair of briefs. Steve averted his gaze, focusing instead on the warm beauty of the reactor.

Tony pulled the briefs on, and then came over to Steve and sat in his lap, grinning. Steve blushed and smiled, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead.

"You like it so much, huh? Why don't you give me a hand then, big guy?" Tony teased, nuzzling at his cheek and licking his ear. Steve blushed brighter.

"S-sure, Tony. Where's your outfit?" He asked. Tony picked it up off the bed, taking the deep crimson shirt out of the plastic cover, and handed it to Steve. He unbuttoned it with shaking hands before smiling nervously, murmuring, "Hands up, please."

Tony held out his arms and let Steve tug the shirt over them, settling it over his chest and leaning in to kiss the arc reactor as he did. He continued to nuzzle and lick the reactor as he buttoned up the shirt, careful and slow and methodical with his buttoning. Tony quivered in his lap, shuddering with pleasure at each touch.

Steve lifted him up off his lap and settled him onto the bed, picking up the pants and kneeling, tugging them up over Tony's legs and pulling them up to his waist. He zippered and buttoned the clasp and fly; Tony whimpered in quiet protest. Steve just tucked his shirt in and ruffled his hair.

He pulled him up to stand in front of him, before grabbing the tuxedo jacket and settling it in over Tony's arms and chest, leaving it unbuttoned until he took out the tie.

"Really? Gold?" Steve said as he held up the tie, amused. Tony chuckled.

"Well, I'm rich, and also, I'm Iron Man. It makes sense." He retorted playfully. Steve kissed his cheek and wound the tie around his neck, tying it tight and secure before finally, as Tony sat down and pulled on his socks and shoes, giving his lover a deep, full kiss.

As he pulled away, Steve said, "I'm going to go get dressed, okay? I want it to be a surprise; you've never seen me in uniform before." He smiled nervously. "I really am very glad Howard saved it."

"Yeah, that's exactly why I had it dry-cleaned." Tony muttered.

Steve gave him a blank look, but it was better that way.

He got dressed in the bathroom as Tony adjusted his tie, loosening the knot a little; he loved Steve, really, but he tied knots like an army man, that much was certain.

Tony was so busy fixing the knot to his liking, eventually getting up to go examine it in the mirror, that he didn't hear the door to the bathroom open, nor the sound of soft shoes on the carpet, and only just caught a glimpse of crisp uniform in the mirror before he was yanked into a warm, tight embrace, a gentle kiss being placed to the top of his head. He grinned, relaxing into Steve's arms.

"Hey, gorgeous," Tony teased. Steve chuckled and turned him around so that Tony could finally see him.

"...Hey, gorgeous," Tony said, most definitely not teasing this time.

Steve blushed and smiled, fidgeting a bit from foot to foot as he offered himself up for inspection. Tony devoured him with his eyes, running them over Steve's whole body. The crisp, sleek uniform with the medals that glinted and gleamed like the sun, even in the dim light of the room, the tie, neatly tied and fastened around his creamy neck that begged for a kiss, the lovely way the pants tightened around his groin just enough to tease, and the shine of his shoes...

"God, you're amazing. Don't leave my side, all right?" Tony murmured, nipping at his ear as Steve shuddered and smiled, pleased. "They'll be all over you. But you're mine. No matter what happens, you're mine."

"Yes, Tony. Yours, forever." Steve promised, kissing his forehead and hugging him tight. He took Tony's hand and squeezed it before he asked, "Why don't we go downstairs? I'm sure Pepper will want to see us off."

"I bet. You ready?" Tony asked. Steve nodded and smiled, a little nervous but a lot more excited than even he would admit. He wanted to show the whole world he wasn't ashamed of Tony; that he loved him and was going to be with him for as long as the two of them lived.

"Yes, sweetie. I'll be just fine." He promised, kissing Tony's cheek. "Are you excited?"

"To go chat with a bunch of boring, vapid rich people? No. To show off my beautiful boyfriend and dance with him? Yes, yes, very much so." Tony said, giving Steve another quick kiss before the two of them headed out of the room, hand in hand, and made their way downstairs.

Pepper met them in the foyer, grinning at the both of them; when she caught sight of Steve's uniform, she outright gasped.

"Good god, it really is beautiful." She whispered. Then she shot a look at Tony and tried not to grin. "No wonder you had it dry cleaned."

Both her and Tony began to snicker for a bit. Steve just looked desperately confused.

"It's nothing, Steve. You look absolutely grand. I hope you both have fun...and Tony, keep him safe. This is his first time, I don't want some heiress eating him alive." Pepper admonished Tony. He nodded.

"No, that's my job. It's fine, Pep. I won't let him get overtaken by a cougar or something; Steve's not going to leave my side, right, big fella?" Tony teased.

Steve swept Tony into his arms and hugged him tight, kissing the top of his head. Pepper tried not to smile; Tony got to be the one who looked terribly confused, just this once.

"No, sweetheart," Steve promised, "no, I won't leave you. Love you."

Tony smiled and relaxed in his embrace, kissing his cheek before wriggling out of his arms to hug Pepper before they left.

"Love you too, Steve," Tony replied. "Ready to go?"

Steve nodded, taking his arm; Pepper opened the door for them, and they both headed outside and down the driveway, right to where the limo was waiting.

"Hey boss," Happy said as they got in. "How was your little entrance to the press conference?"

"Wrecked a wall. Pepper's dealt with worse." Tony told him, getting in. Steve sighed and smiled, sharing a look of mutual exasperated amusement with Happy before Tony plunked himself down into Steve's lap and sat there, very satisfied with himself.

Steve just kissed his cheek, smiled against his skin, and opened the sunroof so that they could watch the stars as they drove through New York, heading off to their gala together.


	100. Chapter 100

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony shows off some of the artwork. Steve gets blushy. There is fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just...really hope you guys are enjoying this. I'm not really feeling confident about it right now, and, yeah. I just hope it's good, I do.  
> Anyways, my worries aside, I have an important question; is there any other site you would like to see this put up on? I'm debating a few and this might sway my choices a bit. Are there any sites you use often? Things like that. <3 Thanks, guys, you're being a huge help. ^^  
> And yes, this is toothrottingly sweet. It won't be forever, so enjoy it while it lasts!

It was a beautiful building wrought in marble, which was the first thing Steve noticed; it was a truly lovely place to look at. The women flocking towards the entrance like brightly colored birds, with their fluttering skirts and flowing hemlines, did not do much to dispel the image; Steve would have loved to have a camera, just to save the moment for reference. Perhaps he would draw it later, or make it a painting. He wondered if Tony would like to hang it on his wall...

He offered Tony his arm getting out; he could already see the camera flashes. He didn't mind the press, not after his little talk with them, but he worried for Tony's sake; he wanted his lover to know he had someone to support him.

Tony smiled and kissed his cheek before Happy opened the door for them; the two of them both managed a relatively graceful climb out of the limo, but Steve really wished he had brought his shield. The camera flashes were so bright as to make him wince, and the after-effects weren't exactly pleasant. Even Tony's reactor didn't glow so bright as these bulbs...

Regardless, he kept his head high for Tony's benefit and made his way towards the marble steps. He cupped Tony's hand comfortingly in his own, soothing and steadying it as it shook.

"You look lovely, Tony," Steve murmured. "Don't forget how beautiful you look tonight, okay? Or how much I love you." Steve kissed his cheek. "We'll have lots of fun, I promise. We'll just dance together and enjoy ourselves. It's all right." He smiled.

"Hey, now that I remember...did you ever manage to convince them to use any of my art?" He paused, considering. "And, uh...what did you have them _use_?"

Tony finally cracked a smile, ruffling Steve's hair a little. 

"Yes, I did...and you'll see, Captain. First, we should go inside and find ourselves a table..." Tony told him, leading Steve inside and giving him one last kiss for the cameras.

...

Steve seated Tony down carefully, kissing the top of his head before he looked up, spying the walls of artwork. His eyes lit up and he smiled, delighted. 

"May I go see them, Tony? If you'd like to come with me, I mean—I'd rather not leave you alone." Steve asked. Tony grinned.

"Yeah, sure. C'mon, I gotta show you my favorites." He said, leading Steve away. Underneath his breath, he murmured with just the hint of a smirk, "Besides, I wouldn't wanna miss your reaction to these pictures..."

"Mm? Tony, did you say something, sweetie?" Steve asked. Tony laughed.

"No, darling. Come here, come here, we're almost there..." Tony said, nudging him forward towards a wall full of black and white pencil sketches. 

Steve looked up at them and outright gasped. 

Tony couldn't hold in his giggles any longer; he allowed himself a minute to break down laughing as Steve flailed verbally, incoherently sputtering. 

"Do you like them, sweetie? Are they up to your artistic standards?" Tony managed to gasp out before he started laughing again. Steve's eyes were huge.

Across the entire wall, beautifully framed, were all his portraits of Tony. Every last one of the pages of his sketchbook had been framed for posterity; all his pictures of Tony, in his lab and in his pajamas and on his bed and just being beautiful...all of them lined the walls. All except...

Steve actually smiled.

"You saved the picture of you sleeping, didn't you, darling?" He murmured. Tony huffed.

"Yeah, that one had your autograph on it. Besides, it's my favorite." Tony told him, taking his hand and squeezing gently. "You _did_ say I could do whatever I wanted with it, 'cause it was mine..."

"Tony, this is lovely. Believe me...I'm glad everyone will get to see you like I do; as the most beautiful, perfect man in the world." Steve murmured, smiling down at him as he took him into his arms for a warm, gentle, slow kiss. Tony smiled in return, melting into Steve's arms and relaxing into the kiss, allowing Steve to plant a few gentle kisses across his cheekbones before he took his hand and guided him back to his seat.

The two of them sat down, Steve still holding Tony's hand, and simply basked in each other's presence for awhile. Tony checked his phone before humming, pleased.

"We've still got a half-hour to kill before dinner," he said. "Wanna dance, sweetheart?"

"I'd love to." Steve whispered, kissing Tony's forehead and taking his hand, helping him up as they walked arm in arm towards the dancefloor.

...

Steve was aware of everyone's eyes on Tony as they danced. It wasn't him they were staring at—they were probably too scared to, considering the conference he had just held.

But the way they looked at Tony put Steve's teeth on edge. He couldn't help but grip Tony a little tighter in response as he let Tony guide him through a waltz he hadn't even seen in the forties, let alone danced to.

"You're so beautiful, darling," Steve whispered. "Don't let these people get to you. I'm here with you, and that's what matters."

Tony smiled and nuzzled his neck, nodding.

"Yeah, I know," Tony promised him. "Seriously, Steve, this doesn't bother me, it's okay!" He sighed and winced. "They've stared before. I'm just...glad I have you here with me. Let 'em stare."

"You do," Steve promised, "and you always will. Are you having fun, sweetheart?"

Tony nodded, finishing up the dance with him as the song ended. He kissed Steve's cheek and squeezed his hand, letting his lover toy with his hair a little before another song started up. This time, Tony let Steve lead, even though he was a little clumsy and stepped on Tony's feet more than once. He liked feeling protected, and with Steve leading him about the dancefloor, it was an easy feeling to have.

Tony let Steve hold him for a little while even after the dance was done, just the two of them standing together on the floor. Steve stroked his back and held his hand, smiling down at Tony.

"You look lovely tonight, did I mention?" Steve murmured. "I've never seen you in a suit like this one. You should wear them more often." He blushed and smiled. "Well, honestly, I think you're beautiful no matter what you wear."

"Same for you," Tony replied. "Seriously, though, I can forgive a lot of what my father did just because he saved this suit. Steve, do you know how gorgeous you are right now? How jealous everyone's going to be when we go to admire those paintings and you're on my arm? You're stunning. We're stunning. And they know it. And I know it. And I love you." Tony nuzzled his neck. Steve quivered at his words, at his touch, and nodded weakly.

"Y-you're beautiful too, Tony. And I love you, a whole lot." Steve squeezed his hand and then lifted it to his lips, kissing it. "Don't think about anyone else though, okay? I don't give a damn about any of them, or what they're saying about us. I just want to look at beautiful paintings with you and enjoy a night out together."

Tony smiled and threw his arms around Steve's neck, whispering, "Yeah, me too." 

Steve kissed his forehead and led him off the dancefloor. He wanted to get Tony something to eat—he suspected his darling hadn't eaten all day, and the food had arrived at their tables. Tony followed without complaint, settling into the seat next to Steve.

"This won't be like what you or Phil makes, but that's okay. I suppose I'll survive." Tony teased as he took bites of what was in front of him—something Steve didn't recognize. He nibbled at his own plate hesitantly before frowning, deciding he didn't care for it much. Tony, however, ate it happily, and was almost done in five minutes. Steve winced—his darling really had been so hungry...

"Come here, sweetie." Steve murmured. Tony perked up, looking at him—Steve smiled. "Would you like some of mine?" He asked. Tony nodded, eager. 

Steve scooped some of it up onto his fork, holding it in front of Tony. He grinned. 

"Open your mouth, then." He purred. 

Tony's face turned a rather interesting shade of red. Steve decided it was his new favorite shade, in fact—perhaps he would repaint his shield that color, redesign his boots and gloves in that shade. It was beautiful.

"Sweetie, you're not going to get it unless I feed it to you," Steve teased, finding he liked this little game more and more. "It is my dinner, after all. On my plate. I should be the one feeding it to you, right?"

Tony nodded, still blushing.

"R-right," he agreed. "Okay, then." He smiled and laughed a little. "I really have created a monster, haven't I?" 

"No, sweetheart, of course not! This is all just me trying to get you to eat." Steve promised him. Tony laughed and squeezed his free hand.

"Of course it is, darling. Smile for the camera, I'm sure they'll love this..." Tony murmured, before he opened his mouth like Steve had asked. Steve smiled at him before he slipped the first bite into Tony's mouth.

He swallowed it eagerly, before looking up at Steve and asking, "You'll eat something too, right?"

"It's okay, Tony," Steve said, touched by his concern. "There's bread. I can live on bread for the moment. We'll go home and have a nice big dessert, okay?"

"Tut tut, Captain America skipping dinner for dessert." Tony teased, laughing lightly as he leaned on the table a little. "So much for being a role model."

Steve rolled his eyes and gave him another bite of his dinner, trying not to smile and failing. 

The two of them sat there in comfortable silence for a little while, Steve feeding Tony bite by bite, very careful not to choke him or give him too much. Tony contented himself with being taken care of, taking every bite happily and enjoying the feel of being totally satisfied with his meal, and the person he was sharing it with.

Eventually, though, they ended up finishing both plates, and Steve was eyeing up the paintings eagerly. Tony chuckled, amused, and ran a soft, gentle thumb over Steve's cheekbone.

"So, sweetheart," Tony ventured, "why don't we go and take a look at all the paintings? You look pretty excited about them." 

Steve brightened up and nodded; Tony laughed, standing up and holding out his arm to Steve. His lover wound his arm in his happily, and the two of them sauntered off towards the rows and rows of paintings together.

Tony had never been happier to attend one of these things in his entire life.

...

Steve was full of wide-eyed wonder at the paintings before him, but Tony wasn't really an artist; it was this that made him so carefully observant of everyone else around them, gritting his teeth as he kept a close grip on Steve, as if that would make the others stop staring.

He could feel everyone else looking at them. He knew half the people who were looking, too. He suspected that he was largely the problem here, honestly. None of them would make a fuss if it wasn't Tony Stark, professional slut, dating the Captain America. 

As if Steve could sense that, which Tony wouldn't entirely rule out, he turned and stopped surveying the paintings, instead sweeping a sharp, harsh glance across the entire room.

He then wrapped an arm around Tony's back, holding him close beside him, one hand possessively digging into his hip.

" _Mine_ ," Steve announced, and that was that; he settled back in to coo over the brushstrokes in one of the paintings.

Tony was grinning like a fool, and he knew he looked ridiculous, but...he would suffer far worse for far less when it came to Steve.

He wasn't as worried now. Well, there was that little doubt, just the worry for Steve, what they might say about him...but he didn't doubt that Steve would love him, even in the face of this. Steve wasn't going to leave him at the end of the night after throwing champagne in his face. Steve was going to cuddle him all the way home in the limo, then snuggle up and eat an ice cream sundae with him when they made it back home and settled in on the couch.

Tony was so happy that it took all his willpower not to just scream and shout, delighted with the life that he had found himself, unrestrainedly and unashamedly—if only for tonight. 

He settled on burying his face into Steve's neck and smiling against his skin. Apparently, that spoke for him better than he thought, for Steve smiled and kissed the top of his head, squeezing his hand in a way that Tony knew meant he understood.


	101. Dalmatians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interview, shameless fluff, Tony just attracts bad people like a bright light in moth city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So AatA's almost done being written.  
> I've been working on this story for over a year; I don't really know what to say about how it sort of being over means to me.  
> Well, okay, there's going to be oneshots afterwards and possibly even a sequel if people are interested. But the big one is gonna be done. And...I don't know what to say about that.  
> Anyways that aside, bit of dub-con in this chapter; Tony just gets hit on, you can skip it easily.  
> Hope y'all don't mind when I shove random OCs in, haha. I try not to let them become too relevant, though I confess, I have a fondness for creating SHIELD agents. Oh, Athena.  
> When AatA is finished, you can expect two things; longer chapters, for one, since I'm not worried about updates, and a new fic being put up on the site! Risorgere is the title of my new one, and it is significantly more action-packed and the pacing, hopefully, has improved. :) There's still Steve/Tony and a whole lot of Coulson feels, don't worry.  
> As to Tony's little freakout here, it happens for two reasons; one, personal headcanon is that Tony's been plied with alcohol and raped before, (in the sense that he's too drunk to consent, obvs still rape), and two, he's so scared Steve will see him and get the wrong idea and leave him. He won't, but then again, Tony.

Steve wrapped a possessive, protective arm around Tony, shooting glares at anyone that dared hold their gaze too long in a way Steve didn't like. He knew exactly what all these people thought—that he was being used or manipulated by Tony. They thought his beautiful little darling was a—was a _hussy_ , or whatever other unkind words people used today, and they thought Tony didn't deserve him.

He didn't care. He would protect Tony, and love him, and keep him safe and sound. That was what mattered.

Steve kissed the top of Tony's forehead as he launched into a longwinded explanation of the style currently on display. Tony huffed and rolled his eyes, but he looked amused, and the love on his face was clear as he listened to everything Steve had to say.

"Captain Rogers, sir?" A thin, small voice, though one bearing no malice or underlying sly queries, reached his ears. Steve turned around to see a slight woman with coppery skin and dark hair, watching him curiously. "Is it really you, sir?"

Steve was still getting used to the fact that he was an icon of sorts, so he just smiled and nodded, a little tense despite himself. His fingers started digging into Tony's hip a little tighter, for comfort.

"I...yes, ma'am. Hello. I'm...well, Captain Rogers. This is my partner, Tony. Is something the matter?" He asked. The woman shook her head.

"No, sir. I've just got a question for you; I'm Adelaide Dove, and I write for the Bugle. I was wondering if I could ask you two just a few questions—to set the record straight. I heard about your press conference, though I wasn't there...and I figured you could make a few statements to clear things up, if you're willing." She offered. "Is it okay if I take you one at a time?"

Steve didn't want to leave Tony alone, not for a second. Not even clearing things up with the press was worth leaving his darling alone in a place where he might be hurt—

"Sure, sure. You take him on, I'm just gonna go look at some of the art. I might buy him something, if he likes it so much; it _is_ for charity and all." Tony kissed Steve's cheek. "Ta, babe."

Before Steve could protest, Tony slipped away. He didn't realize he had been holding his hand out to stop him until Adelaide spoke up quietly, "Captain, sir, he's gone."

Steve lowered his arm slowly and sighed, closing his eyes.

"I suppose he is," he murmured. "We'll have to be quick, if you please. I need to find him."

The warmth in her eyes was full of understanding as she beckoned him over to a table. Steve sighed and sat down as she took out a tape recorder and pressed a button on it.  
  
"My first question is short and sweet; why are you dating him? You had to know what the sacrifices would be, so...what makes Tony worth it?" She asked.

Steve smiled, relaxing easily.

"Tony was the first person after I got out of the ice that treated me like I was a person, not an icon. He's been nothing but loving and kind, and he's been an endless source of support and comfort. He's wonderful, truly; absolutely charming, surprisingly sweet, and one of the kindest, bravest people I've ever met. A man like Tony is worth any sacrifice. Besides, I really don't care if people disapprove of my relationship; Tony's happy and so am I. I don't speak for anyone's morals but my own, and my morals don't have anything against homosexuality." Steve said.

"I see. That's very sweet. My next question..." She sighed. "You do know about Tony's history, right? Does that bother you at all?"

"No." Steve said simply. "What he did before I began dating him is his business. I wouldn't ask anyone to wait almost forty years for a lover; to expect him to have waited for me when it wasn't even known if I was alive until just recently is horrendously unfair. If I can refrain from judging Tony, I should hope the press can, as well."

Adelaide winced a little, but nodded in agreement.

"I figured as much, Captain. Just...one more question. Do you two have any plans for the future?" She asked. Steve smiled.

"I think Tony and I have a few things we need to work out. After that, though...well, I'd like for the both of us to continue serving as Avengers. And once we've settled into the routine, I think..." Steve grinned, a little shy, his face turning a bit pink. "C-could you turn the recorder off for a second?"

"Sure," she said, obliging his request before looking at him. "D'you not want him to hear this?"

"Well, I would like to propose. I don't want Tony to know that because of an article in the Bugle, you understand." Steve mumbled, his voice shy.

Adelaide smiled, turning the recorder back on.

"All right, all right. Sounds like you've got some good plans going. I wish you both luck! Why don't you go find Tony?" She asked. Steve nodded, standing up and starting off.

"I will, I will—just wait here for a bit, if you would, ma'am." Steve said. She nodded, making a few notes in addition to the recorder as he went to look for Tony.

...

Tony knew he shouldn't have gone off alone the second Steve was out of sight. He grit his teeth and shook his head. He wouldn't panic. He wouldn't. That would be ridiculous, he had been to thousands of charity galas before and handled them just fine, so...there was no reason to be scared now. None at all.

Tony swallowed, heading over to one of the paintings Steve had been looking at before, trying to notice what his lover had noticed; the way the shading was painted, the brushstrokes, the color choice and contrast, the theme of the painting—but it was, frankly, all Greek to him.

He had bought art, sure, kept an art collection, but he could never understand it like his clever, lovely, creative Steve could. He sighed and tried to survey them as best he could, even with his inexperienced eye; he wanted to find one Steve might like. Something to hang up in their room, or the living room? It would be nice...

"Hello, Mr. Stark. That's a lovely painting you're eyeing up."

The voice made him jump, just a little; he turned around and gave whomever it was one of his quick, easy smiles that didn't reach his eyes. He didn't recognize the woman, but she held out a hand, so he shook it.

"Jessie LaBelle," she said, "my father's made a few business deals with you, but we've never been introduced." She smiled and sized him up. "What a pity."

Tony knew flirting. He knew exactly when someone was staring at him and why, and what they were sizing him up for. He had been on plenty of dates and flirted with plenty more people, and this was...going to get bad.

Still. He couldn't be rude. If he really had made business deals with her father, then he couldn't risk any more damage to the company by completely shutting her down.

"Yes, indeed," Tony said, and the playboy mask slipped back into place, choking him, stifling him in ways it never had before. "So, you're an art aficionado?"

She smiled and took his hand. The look in her eyes was sharp with a raw hunger.

"Sure am," she murmured. "I prefer nudes."

Tony tugged his hand slowly out of hers, but didn't move otherwise. He had already slighted her enough...

"I like, uh—" He wracked his brain for one of the styles Steve had mentioned, "I like Dadaism best. It was...a good movement."

She frowned and patted his shoulder, her nails digging into the skin just a little.

"Oh, Tony, are you feeling all right? I could take you home, if you liked. You're talking nonsense." She smiled a little and cupped his cheek. "Are you drunk, Tony? Tut tut."

Tony shook his head and jerked it back, out of her touch, and stepped back just a little. He could handle this. It was just flirting. It _was._ He was better than this, he wouldn't crack just from this, he wouldn't, he _wouldn't..._

"Not drunk," he said through gritted teeth. "I don't drink anymore. I _promised him_. And I'll _always_ keep my promises to Steve."

"Oh, _him._ No, it's okay, Tony. If you drink, I promise I won't tell. It'll be our little secret, okay?" She said, leaning in closer. "But you gotta seal it with a kiss."

...

Steve went back to where he had been early on in the night; Tony had liked those paintings, he had thought, and perhaps he would have gone back?

He was starting to hear murmurs. Whispers. Tony's name was on all these people's lips, and he didn't like it, not one bit.

Steve grit his teeth and started forward a little faster now, moving towards the paintings. He was swift and silent, and so he went unnoticed as he approached the wall of paintings, until he saw the woman standing near his Tony and he snarled despite himself.

She jerked away from Tony like she had been burned; Tony himself visibly relaxed, before he turned around and saw it was Steve.

The fact that Tony looked utterly heartbroken to see him made Steve wince.

He just bundled his lover up into his arms regardless, stroking his hair and wrapping an arm around his waist. He didn't say anything as he held Tony close; he just looked at the woman for a long, slow second.

He turned and walked away, uncaring of what happened to anyone else except the man currently burying his face into his neck and wrapping his arms around his neck.

"Tony? Tony, honey? Hey, come on, sweetheart. We're going back to talk to Adelaide. Are you ready? Are you okay, dear?" Steve asked. Tony shook his head.

Why was Steve still being nice to him? He had messed up, done wrong, and made himself a slut again, let everyone hit on him, and he had promised not to leave Steve's side, and he...he had messed up...

"S-Steve, I was, I—didn't you see what happened? I shouldn't have left you, I'm sorry, I'm so stupid, and you know I'm a slut now, everyone knows, and I shouldn't be dating you, I don't deserve you, god, I'm an idiot..." Tony whispered, his voice soft and pained.

"Yes, I saw what happened. I saw someone giving you attention that you didn't want and that made you very uncomfortable. It's okay that you left for a minute, that's not a bad thing to do, and you're not at fault for other people giving you unwanted attention just because you're alone and vulnerable." Steve grit his teeth.

"You are _not_ a slut, you are my Tony, and you are brave and beautiful and kind, regardless of how much sex you've had. I don't care, and neither should you. I love you for being Tony Stark, sweetheart, not for what you can give me in bed. You know that." Steve admonished him, careful to keep his voice gentle. He kissed Tony's forehead as they approached the table.

"The only person who can say that you shouldn't be dating me and make me care is _you,_ Tony. Do _you_ honestly think you shouldn't be dating me?" Steve asked. Tony shook his head furiously.

"N-no. Love you," he murmured. Steve smiled and kissed his forehead.

"Good. So then don't worry, okay?" He said, keeping his voice gentle. "How about you just answer a few questions for Adelaide, then we'll dance one more time if you want...or then we'll just head right home, okay? How's that sound?"

"Totally great." Tony mumbled, kissing his forehead. Steve kissed him right back and hugged him tight, nodding in agreement.

"Sounds great to me too," he said. "Love you, Tony. Be quick, okay? I'll be nearby, but you can talk in private."

"Okay. Stick with me?" He murmured. Steve shook his head.

"No, of course not." He promised, situating Tony comfortably at the table before slipping away enough that he could both keep an eye on Tony and tune him out, so that he might have privacy as he talked to Adelaide.

"Sorry about splitting you two up, Mister Stark." Adelaide apologized. "Are you up for answering questions?"

"Yeah," Tony said. "I want to get the story straight on Steve and I. Ask me anything you need to."

"All right, all right...so, how do you really feel about Steve? We all know you're a bit of a playboy...so what made you change your mind?" She asked.

"The love of my life." Tony said simply. "Because that's exactly what Steve is. What he's always been. I've loved Steve forever, and I've always wanted to be with him. For understandable reasons, that couldn't become a reality until very recently, but my love for him isn't a new thing." He shrugged.

"As to why I changed my mind...there was no change. Not at all. Steve is the most special person on the planet, and I'm the luckiest man in the world to get to call him my lover. I've waited my entire life to get to do that, and everyone else I've dated was simply killing time. Steve...Steve was all I ever wanted." Tony paused. He wasn't sure how much to spill—he decided that he could give her the abridged version and still get his point across, while keeping the rawest details of his childhood to himself.

"When I was a kid, my father raised me on stories of Captain America. I grew up loving him, thinking he was the most special, perfect guy out there; I had all the comics, the trading cards, you name it. Steve was the one thing my father and I had in common...and he became my inspiration, my hope..." Tony shrugged. "Steve was the one constant I had in my life. I've always loved him, always wanted to be with him."

"I see...that's very sweet." Adelaide smiled. "My next question, then; Steve's a bit of a shake-up to your life. How do you think you handle him and your relationship?"

"I just...try to be the best I can for him. I love him, and I think he's worth everything I can give, so I do my best to be brave, and a good hero, and make him all the money we could ever need, and stop drinking for his sake, and be worthy of someone I've loved all my life. I handle our relationship by ignoring what most people say about it and enjoying our private time together." Tony couldn't help but smirk at that. "Any other questions?"

"Just one," she said, smiling. "How happy does he make you?"

"Happy enough to make the past thirty-six years of my life worth living." Tony responded.

Adelaide shut off the recorder and took a few notes, practically beaming.

"I advise you check the paper tomorrow; I think you'll be more pleased with this article." She told him. "It was lovely learning all this. I feel very, very privileged. I hope you two work out. You both deserve it."

Tony was truly touched. He just smiled a little and shrugged, taken aback by her honesty.

"Thanks. Just, uh...have a good night, kiddo. See you at the next gala." He sighed, clearly relieved. "I just want to go home. If I'm not drunk, these things aren't worth it."

"Go home, Mister Stark," she said, amused. "He's waiting for you."

Tony nodded, turning around and heading right for Steve, embracing him tightly and winding his arm through Steve's own, feeling safe and sound.

"C'mon, Steve," he murmured. "We've got someplace better to be."

Steve nodded in agreement. His stomach growled, and he blushed a little, smiling self-consciously.

"Yeah," he agreed, laughing, "someplace with dinner."

Tony snorted with amusement and kissed his cheek, taking his hand and leading him out the door, where the night sky loomed above them, all the stars twinkling down at them, winking brightly as if in approval.

Tony looked up at them for a second before he turned to Steve and gave him a quick, soft, gentle kiss. He was aware there were still cameras out, and the press was waiting for them outside, but he ignored all of it. Steve was there, and he was his. All was well.


	102. Cuddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony cuddle and talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's over.  
> Okay, no, it's not over for YOU, there's like, another 50 chapters I think. Maybe less depending on how big I make them.  
> But I'm done writing AatA--  
> Part 1.  
> No I am not joking. There will be sequels. There is a planned sequel for each pairing--a sort of "resolution" to their minor problems and a look at their lives after the events of AatA, which will affect them all.  
> Also there might be a straight-up sequel possibly but I'm honestly unsure, because I will be starting college next fall! But we will see.  
> With this, I bring good news; Risorgere will probably be uploaded tomorrow. Well, the first chapter. This too is a WIP but it is, like the others, being worked on, and I'd like to think I have a good reputation for finishing fic, yes?~  
> Anyways, enjoy this chapter with the knowledge that I won't ditch you all 250k into a fic. Love you all for reading this, bless your hearts, especially the wonderful people who comment every chapter. I adore you.  
> And yes I'll try to make chapters longer but unfortunately there's a sudden POV shift in the next chapter so I didn't this time, sorry!  
> Oh also don't worry, this won't be the end to their "but you rushed this" problems.

Happy came to pick them up ten minutes later, and Tony got his wish; he and Steve cuddled up in the backseat with the sunroof open, so that they could watch the night and the city pass them by, all the skyscrapers twinkling like stars come to rest on the concrete. Tony snuggled up in the crook between Steve's arm and his chest, and Steve kissed the top of his head.

"It's been really nice spending time with you," Tony murmured. "I mean, this is the first time...the first time I've gotten to really feel like we're a couple. That we're going to be together forever, doing this sort of thing for the rest of our lives..." Tony leaned his head on Steve's chest and smiled.

"It makes me happy," Tony told him, "happier than I've ever been. I just...wanted you. This whole time, I've waited for you...all my life, I just...wanted to be with you."

Steve stroked his hair and shushed him, kissing the top of his head and murmuring gently into his ear, "Rest. I'm here now. I've come for you, Tony, and I've come to stay forever. You don't have to wait anymore. It's going to be just fine, sweetheart."

Tony smiled, snuggling a little closer and tucking himself against Steve, eyes half-closed and breathing soft and tender. Steve held him close and took in his words.

He still had reservations, sometimes, about how fast his life was going. But...now he realized, for Tony...this wasn't fast at all. This was the culmination of almost four decades of waiting for the person he loved more than anything, the person he had devoted and dedicated his life to; no wonder Tony had wanted him so desperately...

Steve was suddenly wracked by guilt at the reminder of just how long he had left Tony to wait alone; for the fact was that he had left all his friends to grow old and die without him, and left Tony alone with a man that refused to let go, only to spend the rest of his life waiting for his dream to come true. He had not only let his friends down, the people he had known and loved...but the people he had never gotten to know, and had loved _him_.

"Tony, I'm here now," Steve whispered, his voice aching, "I'll never leave you again. I couldn't handle it. I can't ever leave you. Oh, Tony, I'm sorry. You've waited so long, and I...I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry. I'm here now. And I won't ever leave you alone again."

Tony snuggled closer and sighed, planting a soft, gentle kiss on Steve's cheek.

"You didn't leave me alone," Tony scolded him gently, opening his eyes enough to look up at Steve. "You were always with me. You were always in my heart."

Steve looked at him for a second, trusting and at peace and so very much in love, and wanted to weep. He was made of stronger stuff than that, though, so he just smiled, and reached out with trembling fingers to stroke the arc reactor.

"Maybe that's why I love this little thing so much." Steve whispered. Tony chuckled.

"Could be," he agreed. "And don't worry. I know you're here now. That makes up for not being here before, trust me. 'Cause I know you're not leaving."

In response, Steve wrapped his arms around Tony, cradling him protectively against his chest. They remained that way until they got home, after which Steve helped him out of the car like a gentleman would, walked him inside, and didn't let go of his hand the entire time.

...

Steve made the two of them a gigantic ice-cream sundae in the huge mixing bowl Pepper kept for cooking; after six tubs of ice cream were promptly sacrificed to the cavernous maw, he started in on the hot fudge. Tony had some time while Steve worked on their sundae, so he went upstairs, promising he would get ready for bed.

Steve hummed contentedly as he fixed up the sundae, and after about six minutes or so of working on it, he had finished. It towered over the bowl and was covered in every topping he could find.

...He hadn't eaten dinner. That was his excuse.

Steve brought the ice cream bowl into the living room, intending to settle it on the couch while he went to undress and get ready for bed, as Tony had done. Instead, he stopped at the threshold of the room and blinked, shocked.

"Phil? You should be resting!" He scolded him. Coulson sighed and nodded, stretching out on the couch and yawning, looking up at Steve with bleary eyes.

"I know, I know, Captain. I'm sorry," he apologized. "My darlings are resting. I just...I just couldn't sleep."

Steve set the ice cream down and offered him a spoon. Phil took a small bite as Steve asked, "Is the evaluation really bothering you that much?"

Coulson sighed and shrugged, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

"It...normally wouldn't. They pass me with a clean bill of health, no matter what's actually happened, because I'm useful. But this year...I've got a lot on my mind." Phil murmured. Steve nodded, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I understand. The Avengers are a lot of hard work...but you take care of all of us. You protect us, and keep us safe. I can't tell you how grateful I am for all you do..." Steve confessed. "You're a hero, Phil, same as the rest of us."

Coulson allowed himself to be soothed, just for a few minutes, by the praise of his hero. He sighed and shook his head, thinking about Steve's words.

He had done so much to keep him safe—keep all of them safe. He had risked everything. It was worth it; it would always be worth it. But...it was exhausting. And yet, he could not rest. Not yet.

"Steve," Coulson said, "do me a favor, will you?"

"Sure, Phil. Anything you ask! What's the matter?" Steve asked, tilting his head. Phil sighed. All he could see as he met Steve's gaze was warm, gentle concern; he was too good for this. He had to protect him, had to protect Tony, just...had to...

"Don't let Tony go on a mission alone. Not ever again. Steve, he needs you, more than he'll ever admit it. Please, don't make him be alone again. I need you two to stick together. No matter what happens, stick together." Phil pleaded. "Anyone trying to split you apart or make you do something you don't want to do—don't let them, okay? Tony's all that matters."

Steve was quiet for a minute, taking in his words.

"...Yes, he is," Steve murmured. "He won't ever be alone again, all right? I swear. I promised him, I'll promise you, I'll promise in front of the whole world if I have to. Tony will be safe. He's the reason I have a shield."

"Good," Coulson replied, sagging against the couch in relief, hit by a sudden wave of exhaustion, "good, good...that's all I can ask for."

"No, it isn't. You could ask for a good night's sleep, I think." Steve said, his voice alternately gentle and stern as he focused on Coulson. He put a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, Phil. Up. We're going up to see your lovers, all right?"

"Mmkay," Phil mumbled, too tired to so much as protest, let alone _defy_ an order from Captain America. Steve smiled, amused, and helped him up the steps, leading him into his bedroom and making sure he collapsed into bed before he turned out the lights and shut the door for them, going to tend to Tony.

He walked into his room to find his lover half-naked; Steve smiled, pleased.

He was still a little nervous about sex, sure. He didn't want it yet, nor did he think Tony ready. But a little cuddling wouldn't go amiss.

Tony stretched a little, inviting and teasing at the same time, as if he knew Steve would reciprocate. Steve growled lightly, crossing the room in two strides before pinning Tony to the bed with a gentle, careful grip. Tony moaned, flexing up against him.

"Hey, uh, first lesson—nipples, right? Feel really good. Could you—would it be too much to ask if—" Tony was cut off as Steve began to kick off his shoes, socks, and pants, silencing him with a ferocious kiss as he undressed down to his briefs; Tony moaned into the kiss and helped him tug off his jacket and shirt, until all that was left were Steve's dog tags, clinking against the arc reactor. The noise made him look down, and he grinned. It was a wolfish grin that sent heat barreling towards Tony's groin, making him a puddle on the bed.

"So, yeah, if you could just—" Tony was cut off with a low growl as Steve nipped at his neck, making his way down to his chest.

"No farther," he warned him. "You know I'm not ready, right?"

Tony nodded, looking away and bucking his hips up, just a little.

"Y-yeah, sure. I know, I know. Just—oh, Steve, c'mon, I wanted this—"

"Yes, I know," Steve replied. "You've wanted this all night, haven't you? I know I have. I've been biding my time, gritting my teeth, watching everyone with their eyes on you, judging you, judging _us,_ this wonderful thing we have, and then that _woman_ —"

He shook his head and growled once more before putting a hand over Tony's arc reactor, shielding it.

"You've been waiting for me to do this," he told Tony, who simply nodded frantically in agreement. "You've wanted me to kiss you and touch you all night, haven't you, Tony? You've wanted a reminder that you're mine. I understand. It's okay." Steve smiled, his lust replaced by tender, gentle love as he stroked Tony's hair.

"You're mine, sweetheart. You've always been mine, in my heart and yours. Ssh, ssh. I'm right here, and I love you. Let me just...remind you a little."  
Steve nipped at his neck once more.

"Mine," he murmured, licking the reddened skin. Tony groaned softly. Steve moved down to his collarbone, nipping at that as well.

"Mine," he announced as he ran his tongue across the contours of Tony's clavicle. Tony whimpered, eyelids fluttering as his hands scrabbled frantically for purchase on the bed.

Steve's face was bright red, and some part of him was horrified by his possessive, animalistic behavior, but a much larger part of himself urged it forward, encouraged him in his  touches and marks, telling him to claim Tony. 

"Mine," Steve said as he went down to the arc reactor, "oh yes, this is all mine, it's _your heart_ and it's all _mine_ , and it always _has_ been, and—oh, Tony, I swear, I'll keep it safe forever, it's yours, and that means it's _mine_ , mine to _protect_ —"

"Yeah, I know, I know, it's yours—you're the only proof it even _exists_ , c'mere, Steve, please—fuck, Steve—" Tony whimpered shamelessly, spreading his legs wider to allow Steve to situate himself on top of his chest. Steve went right for the arc reactor, and he kissed the surface, tender and gentle. Tony moaned, legs quivering as Steve began to work over the arc reactor.

Steve licked and lapped at the rim, running his tongue along it, working it across the little grooves of the metal. He traced in between the scars with the tip of his tongue, before pulling back and looking down at the reactor. He smiled, leaning in and licking the surface, running his tongue along it, sucking the rim and pressing wet kisses to the center.

Tony groaned and gasped, his voice cracking as he cried out for Steve.

Steve nursed at the edges of the reactor for a little while longer before he ran his fingers along the edge, getting them wet.

Very carefully, as if he was afraid he would hurt him, Steve pressed his slick fingers against Tony's nipple.

"Is this—is this how you do it? Is this okay, Tony?" Steve asked, hesitant. Tony nodded, face flushed and pupils blown.

"Y-yeah, you're good, so good, so fucking _good_ , just—use your tongue on the other one, please, please, _please_ —"

Steve did as Tony asked, suckling on his nipple as his fingers played with the other. He quite liked it, he decided, though not as much as he loved to play with the arc reactor. 

The feeling of Tony's skin was so good, though, all warm and smelling of Tony, his unique musk that made Steve ache to bury his face into his neck and just inhale, content. 

He licked and played with the little bud for awhile, just nipping at it lightly every so often and listening to Tony's screams of pleasure, before suddenly, his head jerked up and he gasped.

"Tony, oh my god—Tony, I left the ice cream downstairs—we have to hurry, before it melts!" Steve said.

Tony wanted to scream.

"Are you—" He paused.

Steve hadn't eaten dinner. He didn't want Steve to go hungry. Steve eating mattered more to him than his pleasure.

...Was this how Steve felt about him sometimes?

"...Sure, Steve. Let me just shower first, okay? I'll meet you down there." He said, still grappling a little with that epiphany. Steve smiled, giving him one last tender kiss to his neck.

"Okay, dear. And remember...you're coming downstairs. Not putting on a shirt." He purred.

Tony laid on the bed for a few minutes after Steve pulled on a pair of pajama pants and went downstairs to check on the ice cream.

...Maybe he'd missed his calling as a teacher. Or created a monster. Perhaps both.

He got up and showered, finishing himself off with a cry of Steve's name; he had to, considering otherwise, he would have been far too aroused to go down there and eat ice cream. Truthfully, though, cuddling on the couch with Steve was the only thing he really felt like doing.

Tony smiled as he wrapped a towel around his waist, drying off before getting half-dressed and going down to join Steve.

Maybe Steve was teaching him a few things, too.


	103. On the Couch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no couch, but there is a psychiatrist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for Nat's infertility problems. Just so you know.  
> Yeah, made this chapter extra big--it was initially one session per chapter--mostly to show you that yes, yes I'm done and updates can be longer now. Hope you enjoy it!

Phil could tell exactly what this was all about. After all, the sky was stormy grey, he was in a misty, dark place full of swirls of cosmic energy that looked like the color of magic, and oh yes, there was a Norse god sitting on a wisp of smoky space in front of him, watching him intently.

"Son of Coul," Loki greeted him. "Forgive me for not contacting you recently. There has not been much going on in the depths of S.H.I.E.L.D.; at least, nothing relevant to your team. Is all well?"

"Psychological evaluation tomorrow," Phil replied. "Bit nervous. I don't want to let anything slip."

Loki tilted his head, considering.

"You have your team and thus, the people you love, at stake. I do not think your tongue will betray your heart. Not here." He said.

Having that kind of confidence given to him by the god of lying and mischief should not have made Coulson as relieved as it in fact did.

"Thank you, Laufeyson. That's not the point, though. The larger point is...I don't know what to tell them. I just...I'm so tired." Phil sighed. "I need to be very, very careful, but I'm so desperate for someone to listen that I'm worried I'll let something slip!"

Loki paused, watching him for a second.

"I will contact you again tomorrow night, should you wish. I will listen, if you need it. Keep that in mind and remember to tell them nothing. They are the enemy. Surprisingly, this time, I am not; for this has become about Thor's safety now, and that matters to me above all else." Loki said. "Is that enough, Son of Coul?"

Having that kind of promise made to him by the god of lying and mischief should not have made Coulson as grateful as it, in fact, did.

Uncaring of the fact that it was a dream, Coulson reached out and hugged Loki. The god stiffied, as if unused to such contact; in fact, he probably was. Coulson was used to hugging people who were unused to it, though, and so he continued to hold on. 

"More than enough. Thank you." Coulson said. "I really should rest now, though. Are you all right at base?"

"They have kept me fed and I move about the cage as much as I am able. I am in no danger, Son of Coul. It is Thor who might be, and him I urge you to protect." Loki said, his voice rough with love and longing.

Phil knew that was Loki's sole desire and motivation; the agent in him filed that away for later.

"Of course, Loki. Rest. I will be fine, and so will Thor." Coulson promised. Loki actually smiled.

"Thank you, Son of Coul. I shall see you tomorrow evening." He replied.

He dissipated into an icy wind rimmed with snowflakes before the dreamscape melted away entirely. Coulson slept peacefully after that, content with what lay ahead for tomorrow.

...

The entire house awoke tomorrow, bright and early, and peace seemed restored. Life had gone on rather nicely, and those who could rest, did so.

Those who had psychological evaluations in the morning woke up and made themselves a cup of coffee before leaving the house. Clint sat in the back beside Natasha, drawing comfort from her. Phil drove to base with his knuckles gripping the steering wheel, white as bone.

They pulled into base and looked at each other for a long, slow minute, before the three of them took each others' hands, drawing comfort from the warmth and strength within. They kissed each other before getting out of the car, Phil taking each of their hands in his and walking them inside, winding their way through base until they reached the small, nondescript floor that was the psychologist's wing. No agent went in there unless necessary; it was seen as a weakness, almost, to have to go in there more than once a year.

Phil sized up Clint and Natasha carefully, trying to gauge an order. He would, of course, go first, to make it easier on the two of them—

"I'll go." Natasha said suddenly. Phil shook his head and grabbed her hand, as if to keep her from leaving. Natasha sighed and smiled, kissing his forehead.

"Before you tell me you're going first, let me tell you this; I'm not going to sit here and wait while you and Clint suffer. I want this done with as fast as possible, and I know that I can handle it. I would much rather you stayed out here and comforted Clint. Please, my love." Natasha murmured, kissing his cheek. Phil sighed and gave her a slow, soft kiss.

"...All right, Natasha. If you feel like you can handle it, I trust you," he murmured. "Just don't tell them anything you think might get you kicked off the team. You and Clint are staying here, safe and sound, where I can always be with you." 

Natasha hugged him tight and nodded, before she headed down the hallway, towards the single door at the end of it. She opened it, slipped inside, and was gone.

Coulson guided Clint onto the couch and settled him in, rubbing his back and letting Clint snuggle close against him, eyes scrunched shut as he gripped Phil's suitjacket, wrinkling it with his grip. Phil didn't mind, though. He just kissed the top of Clint's head and stroked his hair, murmuring soothing words as they waited for the evaluation.

...

Natasha sat crosslegged on the chair, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. The psychiatrist looked over her glasses at her with bright, glittering brown eyes. 

"Hello, Agent Romanov. I don't believe we've met. I'm S.H.I.E.L.D.'s new head of psychiatry and well-being. Stephanie Yu." She held out a hand; Natasha shook it, eyeing her up carefully.

"Did they finally dispose of the other? What was his name, Clarence?" She frowned. "He's been around since I was a child. I didn't like what he asked me to tell him. It changed when I got older."

"Well, as your file says, you're sterile. Perhaps that was why?" She suggested. Natasha shrugged.

"Yes. It was. But I'd rather not talk about it," she said. Stephanie blinked, shaking her head.

"My dear, if that's the heart of the problem, then—"

Natasha pulled out her gun and pointed it right at her face, her hand shaking. She did not think of the empty ache in her stomach. She did not think of Phil. She did not think of Clint. She did not think of the life they might have had.

"I'd rather not talk about it," she repeated. "And you and I both know that this is all just a _fucking formality,_ that no one would dare take me off this team, out of S.H.I.E.L.D., because _I'm the best there is._ If I don't want to talk about something, we _don't_. Have I made myself clear?" 

Stephanie sat down in her chair, her whole body trembling. Natasha grinned a little, just enough to bare her teeth.

"I'm not a little girl anymore," she said. "I don't have to tell anyone anything."

"...Certainly not," Stephanie said, returning to her senses; Natasha gave her credit, considering it only took her a minute or two. "But you ought to try. It's not about how old you are, darling, it's the help you need." 

"I have my lovers, I don't need help." Natasha snapped. Stephanie just raised an eyebrow, allowing her to continue. Natasha rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Since you're new, I'll fill you in; the two men out there are my lovers. Both of them, in fact. And they've done more for me than any psychiatrist has, or ever will." She said.

Stephanie nodded in agreement.

"I'm sure they have. Is that why you're so frightened of losing them?" She asked. Natasha started, glaring viciously at her. Stephanie chuckled.

"Oh, what a nice bluff can get you. Don't worry, dear. It was just a guess. You don't give away that much, but if someone happens to guess the right thing..." She tsked. "You're quite like evey other S.H.I.E.L.D. agent I've met so far, in that regard. Frightened of losing your partners." She looked over her glasses at Natasha. "Has that fear increased lately? Being on the Avengers Initiative and all."

This was not a psychiatrist's question. This was Fury's. 

Natasha shook her head and smiled, just a little. Two could play a bluff, if this was how the session was meant to go. 

"No. If anything, the fear's been...alleviated. I'm around four other people who can use strength beyond what I could ever imagine, and all of them are just as devoted to Clint and our agent, Phil Coulson, as I am." She said carefully.

Phil was the one Fury would be after. No, no. She wouldn't be taken off the team and neither would Clint. But _Phil_. Sweet, darling Phil, the warm, soft part of her soul, so strong and brave. They could take him off the team. And then he was as good as dead.

"The agent? He's your liason, not an agent of the Initiative itself." She said. Natasha chuckled.

"True, but he leads us. He keeps us together. And he keeps us sane," she replied. "And...out of trouble."

Stephanie raised an eyebrow and scribbled down a few notes.

"I see. Well, it's good to know that your fears have been dealt with. You seem to be handling the transition from spywork to soldier rather well, Natasha." She said. Natasha shrugged.

"My skill set is a little different now. I'm a known face in the underworld, and besides, they've found a new use for me. There are a thousand spies in this organization, but only six Avengers. If it's here that I'm needed, it's here I'll adapt to." She replied. 

"Certainly, certainly. As long as you're handling it well, then there's no problem at all." Stephanie shrugged and made a few notes. "If you're not willing to talk about the infertility..."

"I won't. It's of no impact on my work or what I do, nor my relationship with my lovers. Don't waste Fury's time bringing it up. He knows." Natasha said, her voice quiet and grim.

Stephanie nodded and made a few more notes.

"Good, good. Well, then, Ms. Romanov, if you don't think we have anything else to cover..." She trailed off with a sigh as Natasha frowned.

"There's nothing you're going to cover that twenty other yearly psychiatric visits won't have covered. I assure you, I'm fine." Natasha said. Stephanie nodded.

"Of course, of course...well, then. I suggest you go outside and tell the other two." She said. "Good luck, Agent Romanov. Your new job sounds exciting."

"For a measure of exciting, yes..." Natasha said, leaving as fast as was polite. There was something about the woman that unsettled her, and it was all she could do not to run right into Clint's arms as soon as she shut the door and found him standing there.

"Did she hurt you, Nat?" Clint whispered, wrapping a hand around her stomach. "I heard what she said. It's okay. You're my Nat, and Phil's my Coulson, and I don't care about babies, you know that."

"No, it's—it's fine. I'm fine. Clint, where's Phil?" She demanded. 

Coulson's arms were around her in a second, and she almost wept with relief. Her prideful, firm, ruthless Clint, brave and grand and mischievous; the scarred parts of her soul, but what made her soul strong. And then there was her soft, warm, gentle Coulson, fierce and powerful but so loyal, so empathetic and loving, the soft parts of her soul, but what made her capable of what mattered; love and life.

"It's okay, Natasha," Phil whispered, and that was so good, because he was who she had worried about, Clint would never want children, but _Phil_ —oh, she wondered sometimes, if that was what Phil wanted...

"It's okay," he repeated, "you're okay. You're okay, I'm right here. It's okay. It's done. You're done for a whole year. Ssh, Nat. Ssh."

He kissed the top of her head before he knelt down and kissed her stomach. 

"It's okay. I don't care, not at all. I love you. Come on, darling, sit down, sit down..." He murmured, getting her down the hall and onto the couch with Clint, settling her in beside him. "Clint, darling, stay with her. You're not ready yet, and I—"

"Actually, I was planning on seeing Agent Barton now, if that's all right with you."

Stephanie's voice cut through them all. It was Phil that tensed first, and Natasha reminded herself exactly why no one in S.H.I.E.L.D. ever thought of him as a threat. Because on the surface, he wasn't—until they were in trouble. It was the best dissembling she, as a spy, had ever seen, and she loved him for it.

Phil stood up straight and extended a hand, taking hers and shaking it. Natasha knew he was gripping her hand hard enough and in all the proper ways so as to remind her that he could, in fact, quite easily break it.

"Agent Coulson, it's a pleasure. Agent Barton is under my care, and I don't think he's ready for the assessment, but seeing as it's my day to attend the session as well, I could—"

"Oh, no, agent. Quite frankly, if he's not ready, all the better. It proves we've something to talk about. Come along, Agent Barton." She said, beckoning to him. Clint looked at Phil, confused. Phil sighed and kissed his forehead.

"This is not the time to fight, my darling. Be careful. I'll be right out here with Natasha. You can walk away whenever you need to." Coulson promised. 

Clint nodded, squeezing his hand one more time before he slipped past them both and followed Stephanie into her office, shutting the door.

Coulson hugged Natasha tight and rubbed her back, soothing her with soft, gentle murmurs as she shivered in his embrace.

"They never let me forget," she whispered. "They never let me stop remembering all I've lost, and the things...the things I'll never be able to give you. I'm so sorry, Phil."

Phil sighed and shook his head, hugging her tightly and stroking her hair. Natasha laid her head on his chest as he gave her a quick, soft kiss, before taking her hand.

"Natasha, you and Clint are the greatest things to come out of my life. I couldn't care _less_ about children, Natasha. Do you really think _children_ could ever compare to the glory of you two? To being able to love you both and take care of you? Oh, Nat." Phil kissed the top of her head and held her close.

"You're both all that I could ever possibly want. We don't need a child to make us a perfect relationship, and you don't need to have children to make me happy, either. Ssh, Nat. Ssh. We love you so much. It's all right." Phil soothed her, holding her tight and rubbing her stomach, slow and careful and loving.

She nodded, tears in her eyes, and snuggled close, closing her eyes tight so as to block the tears. She could never walk away from something as beautiful as the both of them.

She didn't need anything else, and she was so grateful Phil reminded her of that. 

Still...perhaps one day...things could be fixed.

She allowed herself to entertain the impossible for just awhile as she curled up next to him and the two sat in silence, awaiting Clint's return.

...

Clint sat crosslegged on the chair, his face harsh and solemn. All he could think of was Natasha, and how this woman had hurt her. No one hurt his Natasha. He protected her, always...

"So you're quite close with Agent Romanov," she remarked. "You were her partner first; that's what the file tells me. Is that so?"

"Yeah," he said, in a tone that was just barely above a snarl. "Yeah, Nat and I have been partners since she was about twelve and I was about seventeen. Phil's been our partner for about two years now." 

"Hm. Does he feel left out of the loop at all? Polyamorous relationships are hard enough, but getting in between your bond must have presented a unique challenge." She said.

Clint grit his teeth.

 _He didn't get in between it. He saved us. He made the bond healthy rather than smothering._

He steeled himself and choked down his rage, smiling just a little.

"No, he doesn't. We take care to make sure Phil remembers he's wanted and loved. He is, after all, our partner." He said, keeping his voice placid.

"I see. Well, then, since that's not a problem, how do you feel about Agent Romanov's infertility? I'm sure you've been made aware of it." She asked.

Clint wanted to scream. The whole room felt stifling, making him ache; he wanted to scratch at his skin and tear it off, hurt something, or just make someone bleed. 

Of _course_ he was aware of it. How dare she. How _dare she_. Of course he knew. _Everyone_ knew. They had paraded her through the bridge after the surgery, her little girl's stomach, smooth and round and scarless, to show off the fine work their doctors had done. She had been praised for her sacrifice, lauded for her commitment, and whispered about behind her back, when the fervor died down and they didn't have to pretend this was the right thing to do anymore.

She had been twelve. He had not known her then, but she had told him this. When he had met her, she still let herself cry about it. So he had held her, and he had listened. It was all he could do.

Of course he fucking _knew_ , didn't she think _everyone_ knew? Didn't she think everyone mocked her behind her back, in the safest places where she could never take revenge, wouldn't dare? Didn't she think he had held her when she cried and kissed the soft, smooth skin that should've had scars? 

Didn't _anyone_ understand that _none of it_ mattered, nothing mattered but _Natasha_ ; Natasha's happiness, Natasha's _life,_ and he didn't give a _damn_ about infertility, because who would let _them_ raise children? Who would let _him_? Broken, abused little boy, grown up into a hard, prideful, vicious man, not fit to raise a child, not fit to have a _family_ , and that was all right, because he had _Phil,_ and he had _Natasha,_ and he had a _team._

He knew. Oh, he knew. And he accepted it. 

"I've known, and I don't care; she's my lover, regardless," Clint said, and that was that. If she said anything else, he would snap. Natasha was worth so much more to him just as Natasha than as a broodmare or whatever they wanted her to be, and they'd all learn that, damn it.

Perhaps she knew he would lose his temper if she inquired along that line further, so she switched gears; so suddenly that Clint's head practically spun, in fact.

"So, Agent Coulson. How does he handle you two? Do you ever feel like he's stifling either of you?" She asked.

No, he didn't like that question either. But there were less agonizing nights spent holding frightened little girls in that question.

"He's our lover. He takes care of us and protects us and keeps us safe. That's all. He doesn't smother us. He takes care of us when we need to be taken care of, and supports us when we need support." Clint snapped. "He's our Coulson, and we take care of him, too!"

"I see. That's a very sweet response. It's good to know the three of you are getting along so nicely." She looked over her glasses at him carefully. Clint watched as she made a few notes before she asked, "Do you ever feel like you two aren't...enough to protect him? He's vulnerable. Not a soldier, or a spy, or god. Not even any armor to keep him safe. How does that make you feel?"

 _Fury._ That had Fury written all over it, and if he didn't walk away, he would—

No. No, if it was Fury...he couldn't walk away; too risky. Fury would know. Oh, he would know.

"It isn't just us that's protecting him now. He's got the greatest soldier on earth, the Hulk, the god of thunder, and a man with his superpowered armor, along with the two of us; the best assassins S.H.I.E.L.D. has. He's got plenty of people to keep him safe. And they'd all do anything to make sure he remains that way." Clint said.

She made a few notes. He just smiled. Good. Let Fury know. Natasha might play the little tete-a-tete, but fuck that. He'd rip out anyone's guts who got near Phil. He would keep his Coulson safe at all costs.

"I see. He must feel very...safe." She remarked. Clint grit his teeth.

"Yes, he does. So do we all. We all take care of one another, and we protect each other. No one's ever going to separate us, and frankly, it makes me feel safer than I've ever felt to work with these guys. I'm fine, seriously. Can we be done?" Clint groaned. Stephanie sighed.

"You three are not very receptive to psychiatric help," she admonished him. Clint shrugged.

"We don't need it. We have each other. S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't there for us when we hurt, but Phil was. And when Nat was hurt and we didn't know Phil...I was there for her, and S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't. And when _I_ hurt, they were there for _me_. So I dunno, but I think you're not gonna be of much help. I've got all the help I need." Clint said, getting up out of his chair.

"I don't tell just anyone my problems. Phil and Nat fought like hell to get that right. Because they thought I was worth it. You haven't fought, and you wouldn't think I was worth it anyway. So I'm done." Clint shrugged and zipped up his jacket, heading for the door.

Before he left, though, he stopped, tensed, and breathed slowly before turning around to face her. His eyes were sharp as chips of flint, and just as unforgivingly harsh.

"If you hurt Phil while he's in here, I will kill you." He said. His tone of voice told her that he meant every word. "No one touches Coulson. He's safe. From you, from Fury, from _everyone._ 'Cause I've got my eye on anyone that hurts him. And I don't miss."

Clint left after that, closing the door with a deceptively soft click.

He went out and walked down the hallway, eyes grey. For once, he didn't see anything, save the girl in front of him.

She was small and slight, and so beautiful. Her hair was soft and short, falling in tousled curls around her face. A few light freckles still remained on her thin, fine cheekbones.

"Clint, they gave me the treatments again," she whispered, and Clint could see the tubes and needles in her arm, recreate them from memory. "Why does it always hurt, Clint? They already took it away. Why do they have to keep hurting me?"

He could only see in that moment the little girl strapped to the table, cold and sterile tools shoved in her body, bleeding it out and pumping her full of chemicals. He had watched, sometimes, when she had needed him there.

"Oh, kitten, I don't know," he said, startling both Natasha and Phil, who just watched him, wary, "I wish I could give it back, kitty-cat. Make it all better. I'm sorry. They hurt you, and there's nothing I can do. But I won't let anything else happen to you, not ever. Okay?"

He hadn't called her kitty-cat in years. 

Natasha knew the name and reached out in recognition, regardless.

Her hand took Clint's, across ten years and leagues of sorrow.

"Okay," she whispered, tears in her eyes.

As if the whole incident was then forgotten, Clint's eyes refocused and he smiled brightly, kissing both their foreheads.

"She'll leave you alone, Phil. I promise." Clint said, nuzzling his neck. Coulson sighed, already imagining what Clint had to do to make that happen. Clint huffed, recognizing that look.

"I didn't do anything bad, promise. But...seriously, we're gonna keep you safe, okay? 'Cause we love you. And you make us whole and good and happy, and we love you." Clint promised, snuggling closer and pecking Phil's cheek. "Be careful, Phil. Please."

"I will, love. I promise." Coulson murmured, standing up and giving them both slow, soft kisses before he headed down the hallway.

He entered her office without a word, Loki's promise hanging about in the back of his mind like a half-remembered, hazy dream.

_Son of Coul? I am with you._

Phil only barely heard it, but the feeling was still enough to make him smile.

He settled into his seat and waited, sure of himself. After all, he knew he would do anything to ensure his team's safety.


	104. Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The real 104st chapter. Phil is also a badass but like, does that even merit saying?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry bout a shorter chapter, there's a timeskip next one, so!  
> Anyways, Phil. <3 I will always love you, Phil. And yeah I hope you all like this chapter~ Sorry about the last double post, for whatever reason Ao3 does that sometimes.

There was a pause when Phil entered the room; he sat down quietly and regarded her. She didn't like that she couldn't read what was lurking behind his eyes. 

"Your lovers talked quite a bit about you. You've made a very good impression on them, agent. That's something to be proud of," Stephanie said. Phil nodded, keeping his face stoic.

"I suppose I have," he said. "They are both wonderful people, but their emotional states were neglected for quite some time. I did my best to heal them, as were my orders, and it went from there. I've done my best to take care of the other members of the Avengers Initiative as well; you could say it's sort of my job simply to nanny them."

"It certainly seems like they could use it," she agreed. "Does it ever make you...anxious, though? Being around all of these gods and superhumans?"

"Not really. Frankly, I see the side of them that makes them human and relatable; it's much easier not to fear them when I know them so well as friends and protectors," Phil replied.

"Do they protect _you,_ then?" She asked. Phil tensed. A question from Fury, and he knew it. How much of a warning could he give before his warnings were taken as a threat?

"...Well, I do most of the protecting, quite frankly. I'm not on the battlefield very often; if I am, it's in a safer area. I protect them from their demons and make sure they're ready to fight on that battlefield; it's all I can do, really. I keep an eye on them and make sure they know they're well-protected...and I do all I can to keep them going." Coulson explained. 

"How much strain does that put on you? You've got a history of psychosis—" Coulson flinched, but he was not Clint, would not snap back, "—and you've lost your partners before. So what sort of strain are you put under knowing they need you?"

Phil didn't respond. He was shaking, lips pale as he pressed them together. She looked over her glasses at him. Her eyes were pale and dull.

"And what sort of actions would you undertake, should you think them in danger?" She asked.

Phil did not move. Phil did not speak.

All he could think of were the files, the ones he had shoved deep beneath reams and reams of paperwork. The files Fury had given him that outlined the kind of missions he wanted Tony on.

Phil had spent almost fifteen years as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. He knew a suicide mission when he saw one.

Mission after mission after mission. All of them high-risk, all of them meant for entire platoons, and all of them marked for Tony. 

Phil would not let him take those missions. Not a single one. Not alone. He knew what it would entail; more nights with Steve alone and lost, terrified, and Tony in danger, pushing himself beyond what he was capable of—what anyone would be capable of.

Phil protected and defended. These were _his_ Avengers, and this was _his team,_ and he would be _damned_ before he let Fury take them.

And Tony—god, _Tony_. Fragile, sharp-tongued Tony, too reckless for his own good...and Fury knew it. No. Steve was so good for him; Steve was saving Tony. He had worked so hard to make that happen...and he would make sure they could continue being happy.

No. No, Fury would not win this fight.

Phil smiled, placid and dull; the mask of the unobtrusive pencil-pusher slipping back into place.

"Well, in the field, I am a relatively decent combatant. I would do the best I could to ensure they had backup, should they need it in an emergency. Aside from that, I know they are more than capable of taking care of themselves; I'm there to act as a shoulder to cry on, mostly," he told her.

Let Fury swallow that pill, then. He wasn't the only liar in S.H.I.E.L.D., far from it.

Her smile faded, but she said nothing, simply scribbling down a few points in her notes.

"I see. All right, agent. You seem to be in the clear. Why don't you go tend to your lovers? Your evaluations will be sent to you shortly," she said, her voice clipped. Phil smiled, triumphant.

"Yes, I will. Thank you. Have a nice day, Doctor Yu," Coulson said, slipping out her door as quitely as he could. The click of the door shutting rang mockingly in her ears.

Phil went down the hall and embraced both his lovers, kissing their foreheads and smiling.

"It's all right, darlings. We're in the clear. Why don't we go out for some ice cream? I think you both deserve a treat." Phil promised. They both brightened up, smiling pleasantly as  Phil took their hands and led them down the hallway, out the doors and out of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s grasp for the time being.

 _All is well, Laufeyson,_ he sent, unaware of if the god would catch it or not. 

_I assumed as much, Son of Coul._

He almost sounded amused.

Phil couldn't help but smile, pleased, as he left, unaware that Loki was in fact smiling, too.

...

The trio came home a few hours later, confronted with all the other Avengers sitting at the breakfast table, as if they had been there for quite some time. The ten coffee cups surrounding Tony simply confirmed that. 

"Psych eval's over," Coulson said. "We passed." He surveyed the table and smiled, amused. "Did you all really sit here and wait?"

"Yep," Tony said, taking a sip of his coffee. "You would've."

"True," Coulson agreed, a smile on his face, "but that doesn't mean I can't be touched by your concern. Thank you, really. We're all fine." 

"And we got ice cream," Natasha added. "I admit, this made the endeavor much more pleasant." 

"Ice cream tends to," Tony agreed, before looking up at Phil. "Hey, did Fury ask after any of us? Seems weird for him to give us such a lull in missions..."

Coulson tensed, just long enough for Steve to catch it; Tony remained oblivious, however, and so Phil, not seeing Steve behind him, was content to smooth his features into something neutral and shrug.

"We didn't see him. Regardless, take the time off and appreciate it; you and Steve deserve it. As do the rest of you." Coulson was content beyond words; the satisfaction of knowing his team was safe and sound and he was free for another year made him much more at ease than normal. "Why don't we all just go out for the day? As a team. Somewhere nice, doesn't matter."

Tony put his phone down and nodded, a small smile on his face.

"Sure. C'mon, we'll take my car." He offered, picking up a set of keys off the counter, Steve and Bruce following behind.

"Which one?" Clint teased as they reached the garage, gesturing to Tony's fifty-something cars. Tony rolled his eyes and gave him a look.

"The one I can push you out of, Barton." He retorted. Anything further he might have said, however, was silenced with a sharp glare from Natasha; far more effective than any knife. Clint grinned and nuzzled her neck in thanks.

Tony did in fact find a car large enough for all of them; him and Steve up front and everyone else sprawled across the seats in the back. It was going to be a slow, lazy drive, Phil figured.

"Coney Island sound good?" Tony called back. Steve perked up and smiled.

"They still have that?" He asked, hope and delight clear in his tone. "Oh, Tony, can we go?" 

"Okay, Steve asked, and he's the personification of democracy and freedom, so his vote counts more than any of yours. Coney Island it is!" Tony said, backing out of his driveway.

Steve sputtered; everyone else just laughed, and they all drove off to enjoy one of the last warm days of the season with light hearts and warm hands beside them.

...

That night, Phil rested at peace with his lovers on either side of them, and Dreamed.

Loki watched him from atop a swirling wisp of snowflakes; the god tilted his head and observed his relaxed bearing, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm all right," Phil said, his voice warm. "I think we're going to be okay, Loki."

"Good, Son of Coul...but after that, what then? What do you plan to do after all is well?" Loki asked. A bit of hesitant pain flickered in his eyes; so fast Coulson figured he might assume that he hadn't seen.

"Leave S.H.I.E.L.D.," Coulson said, "and once that's done, send Thor after you."

Loki's eyes brightened up with hope. Coulson didn't know why that made him so pleased, but the sensation was pleasant; he did not complain.

"He will not leave many alive, should they resist," Loki said slowly. Coulson shrugged.

"They took his brother from him. They should've anticipated that," Coulson replied. Loki actually grinned.

"A bit of shadow from the Son of Coul. I like that. It suits you, agent," Loki tsked, tilting his head slightly. "So...you will run, then."

"We'll find a safe place. We'll survive. We're heroes, it's what we do. And...I promised my lovers," Coulson murmured. Loki nodded.

"Honorable. Very well, Son of Coul. If escape is the final solution, I will aid in any way I am able. For now, I advise you rest. Before you do..." Loki paused.

"Please. Tell Thor I miss him," Loki begged. Phil nodded.

"I will," he promised, as the dreamworld faded, "I will, I will..."

The only response in his dreams was the rumble of thunder.

...

Fury sighed and looked over the files spread before him, frowning slightly as he observed the neatly printed paperwork in front of him. Something was up with his little group, and he was more than curious as to what these psychological evaluations might tell him.

Clint and Natasha's were the same as they were almost every year, though he found the fact that she had pulled a gun on Yu rather interesting. Normally, Natasha could be relied  on to be the most stoic of the trio...

The thing he found most interesting was that they both were much more concerned with Coulson than normal. He did not come up in any of their previous evaluations after he had been made their partner—to be fair, little was covered overall, since they both knew the evaluations were a farce when it came to the two of them.

But _Phil_ —the second the agent had been mentioned, the two flared right up. Clint let his guard down, got angry; Natasha reached into herself and slipped into one of her cold rages. It was like they didn't know he had been around them, giving them orders for years; like he wouldn't know their anger when he saw it.

Phil, then. Oh, Agent Coulson. He had never been the same after he almost lost his lovers. Pity, really; he was one of the best. 

Still. They thought they could protect him?

There was always an eye upon them.

Fury hummed tunelessly and made a few notes in his next briefing.


	105. Missions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A timeskip. And a new mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so the happy train stops here. And stuff happens. And more stuff next chapter. I just hope you enjoy it. Thanks for sticking with me so long; hope this new development keeps you interested!

For the next three weeks or so...

Nothing happened.

Phil was called in occasionally to handle debriefings or training, and the group had been called upon to handle a few minor crisises that had taken a day at most to deal with.

That was it, though. In fact, most of those missions had been handled by Maria, or passed right on to Phil; none of them saw Fury, in fact.

Phil didn't like it, and Clint and Natasha were a little on edge at first, but as the days wore on, even they admitted that perhaps they had simply been given a break.

They enjoyed fall and prepared for the eventual advent of winter; Phil bought supplies for hot chocolate and enough mini marshmallows to satisfy Clint. Tony threw blankets around the living room and built a little fireplace into the room so they could roast marshmallows. Steve started wearing his leather jackets more often, to the delight of everyone else in the house.

Tony and Steve slowly began to get more openly affectionate, even in public; Steve held his hand almost constantly, and had attended another company dinner with Tony, dancing and spending all his time with him. They had begun to settle into the rhythm of a real relationship, working out the little kinks and always finding enough time to settle in bed for the night and watch a movie.

Thor was apprehensive, still, for there had been no contact from Loki during these three weeks. Regardless, Phil had told him of what Loki had said to him, and promised him they would return for the god soon enough. It had soothed Thor's heart well enough.

Everything was going well. Nothing major had rocked their world as of late, and as the city began to get colder and the skies darker, they all appreciated that fact.

That was why none of them anticipated that morning's call.

Phil picked up the phone, his face ashen as he read the caller ID. He was very quiet, simply listening to what the person on the other end of the line had to say.

He hung up a few moments after, looking at everyone seated at the breakfast table. There were tears in his eyes.

"Captain. Tony. You're needed at base," he murmured.

Everyone else stood up in sharp unison, their chairs scraping the floor in sync.

"Then so are we," Natasha said, her voice firm. "Pepper, the car."

"Of course," she said. "Bruce, come on. You, Nat, and Clint with me. Phil, you take the boys."

"You can't—" Phil's protests died in his throat the second Pepper turned to look at him. She sighed and took his hand.

"You know we don't really have any choice. They're ours to protect, too," she murmured.

"You don't need to protect us!" Steve protested. "Please—it's you I need to keep safe, you're my team, and it's my job—"

"But you've got to be alive and well to do that, right? Come on, Captain," Phil admonished him lightly. "No need to sacrifice for us."

Steve looked like he wanted to argue, but he closed his mouth, knowing he would get nowhere with the other man. He just grasped Tony's shoulder.

"Get the suitcase," he said quietly. "No matter what happens, remember I'll protect you."

Tony nodded, standing up and heading for the lab. Steve sighed and shook his head.

"I'll meet you in the garage. I need to get my shield," he said. Phil nodded, allowing him space. Steve walked like a man marked for execution as he left the kitchen.

...

The drive there was quiet. Thor sat beside both his shieldbrothers, silent comfort. They settled in close beside him. Phil drove, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel. He could feel the headache pounding at his temples, but he had to ignore it...he had to...

For the rest of the drive, he did. Then they pulled into the garage and Phil gasped, clutching his head as pain started to make his vision flash white. No, not _now..._

"Son of Coul?"

_Son of Coul?_

He would have found it sweet that the brothers still talked in sync, was his head not a screaming mass of razor-thin shards of pain, all of them cutting at his frontal lobe.

"M-migraine. It's just stress. It's all right, really," Phil said, getting out and opening the car doors.

_It is much easier to contact you when you are like this. Son of Coul, be careful; there is a darkness here that has had time to fester, and it will not wait any longer. Fury is a snake, and he has wound his coils around your team well. Should he choose to strike...I fear he is in a very good position to do so._

"I _know,_ damn it!" Coulson roared, immediately regretting it as his head rung with pain. "Why do you think I came here with them?"

 _...Son of Coul, perhaps you should refrain from voicing your displeasure aloud. I doubt your team asks for their protector to be well-versed in talking to voices that aren't there_.

"Sorry, guys. Bit tired. Come on, let's get you inside..." Phil said, gesturing towards the door. The trio looked concerned, but did as he asked. Phil sighed and stood at the threshold for a minute, looking up at the building before him and trying not to scream.

"Phil!" Clint's voice was beside his ear, a soft hiss. "You've got a _migraine_ , you can't be here!"

"Clint!" Pepper roared, shoving the door open and storming over. "I told you to wait, not jump out the window!"

"He _needed me!_ " Clint protested, holding Phil close and stroking his hair, like a mother bird fussing over her chicks. "Besides, I've done it before, calm down. Nat! It's okay, I got Phil!"

Natasha sighed, and her hands were cool as they stroked Phil's forehead before she lightly slapped Clint upside the head.

"You know better than to jump out a window to do that, Clint. Don't scare me like that..." She scolded him. "Phil, darling? Are you going to be okay?"

"Gotta take care of them. Gotta make sure they're safe. I'll live, I'll live, c'mon..." He mumbled, wrenching open the door and gasping in pain as the flourescent lights hit him.

A deep, soothing hum filled his mind, and he stopped.

_It is all I can do, Son of Coul. Forgive me. I hope it will be enough. Go to them, and quickly, for he stirs..._

"Thank you," Coulson whispered as the hum resumed. "Thank you, thank you..."

He got up and bolted for the bridge, the others following after him—confused, certainly, but eager to keep up with Phil. They knew what lay ahead, after all.

...

"You okay?" Tony asked, keeping pace with Steve. He sighed and nodded.

"Sure am. I know I can't complain—we've had three weeks off, and it's been amazing! Besides, we have to fight. We're heroes, this is what we do..." Steve murmured.

"Yeah, I know. We'll be fine. I'm not worried about me, just you..." Tony confessed, giving Steve a quick peck on the cheek. Steve smiled and stroked his hair as they approached the main meeting room doors.

"Don't worry, you don't have to be. No matter what happens, I won't leave you alone," Steve promised, kissing the top of his head as they made their way inside.

"Captain. Stark." Fury sat at the head of the table, his single eye watching them intently. Steve tensed despite himself.

"Sir," he greeted him, hesitant. Tony just sat down, plunking himself in a chair, uncaring. Fury raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, the rest of the team, led by Phil, had bolted through the threshold; the trouble was, considering all of them had tried to do it at once, and there was a lot of muscle mass to go around between all of them, they were a bit stuck.

"...I see you brought the team with you as well." Fury remarked, keeping his voice casual. Phil detached himself from the others and strode over, his bearing calm and his face neutral.

"On my orders, sir," he said, keeping his voice level. "I thought it would be for the best."

Pepper sputtered viciously, but Natasha looked at her, her eyes imploring her to understand; Pepper fell silent, but it was clear that she wasn't pleased.

The other Avengers detatched themselves and sat quietly at the table, as if waiting for the storm to break. Fury took out a single file.

"For whatever reason, the paperwork I've been trying to send Stark's way hasn't gone through. That means I've got to deal with this myself." Fury said.

Phil felt sick to his stomach.

"The Ten Rings gang has resurfaced in Afghanistan. As the Avenger with the best knowledge of the area, I've tapped Iron Man as the one to lead the mission," Fury said.

" _No_."

Steve's voice chilled them all to the bone.

Tony looked like he was going to cry. Fright and panic and helpless terror had begun to swell up in his eyes, and he looked up at Steve for comfort and guidance. Steve stood in front of him, his eyes blazing and his whole body tense, coiled, fierce and swollen with protective rage.

Fury just raised his eyebrow very, very slowly.

"No? Oh, Captain. I thought this vacation might make you a little more compliant. I suppose not," he said, his voice clearly designed to stab through Steve and leave him immobile.

It would've worked, and almost did, in fact, but Tony was scared, and Steve was his shield. He held firm.

"Sir, with all due respect, Tony is _one man_. He's had horrendous experiences in Afghanistan before, and I would _never_ go against your orders, sir, I swear, but I am asking you to reconsider," Steve said, his voice breaking under the sheer rage coursing through him.

"He's the only one who can handle it. He's got a job to do, Captain, and incidents on previous missions and pre-S.H.I.E.L.D. experiences can't matter for something like this. Tony's going," Fury said.

"Fine. I respect your orders, sir," Steve replied, his voice a numb kind of calm. There was something behind it that none of them understood.

"Good. Then that's—"

"Why I volunteer to accompany him," Steve cut Fury off. "I am going on this mission with Tony, sir. He has waited almost four decades of his life to be with me. I will not ever leave Tony again, not as long as I live."

 _"NO!"_ Tony screamed, panicked. "You can't! You _can't_! Please don't go, you _can't_ , you'll _die_ —"

"Tony, hush. If I don't, you most certainly will. All I want to do is protect you," Steve murmured. He stroked his hair, soothing and soft. His bearing became sharp and stern as he turned and faced the Director, however, and his eyes sharpened.

"Director Fury, you haven't given me an order otherwise, so I'll be clear; Tony goes, I go. He is _not_ facing his demons alone. A soldier on the field with PTSD is, after all, more likely to be a liability. If he goes with me, we'll have the mission finished in a week, tops," Steve said. "He won't go alone. I swear."

Fury watched Steve for a long time. Neither of them blinked.

For the briefest of instants, pure, naked hatred flickered unfiltered across Fury's face. It was gone in an instant, though, faster than anyone except Steve could register.

"Of course, Captain. If you're so _eager_ to go, by all means. You'll be expected on base tomorrow at nine in the morning." Fury said. His voice was deceptively tranquil; the still calm of unlit dynamite, just waiting for a spark.

"Sir," Steve said, saluting him sharply.

"Dismissed, all of you. Phil, I advise you take a look at your paperwork," Fury said, going back to his notes as if nothing had happened.

They all left, the door swinging shut behind them.

Tony turned to Steve immediately, his eyes blazing.

 _"Home,"_ he snarled, half-mad, _"now."_

Steve followed him without a word.

The others looked at each other.

"I...think they should be left alone at home for a little while." Natasha murmured. Coulson nodded in agreement, his face ashen.

"Yes. Why don't you...you all get something to eat? Breakfast was interrupted, after all. I'll join you shortly, I can borrow a S.H.I.E.L.D. car. I have some paperwork to take care of." Phil said.

They all looked at each other, hesitant. None of them knew how to protest, however, and so they simply nodded in quiet agreement. Clint and Natasha hugged Phil tight and kissed him before they left. Their hands shook as they clasped them together.

Phil watched them go for a few minutes, a small smile on his face.

Then he turned around and headed straight for Nick Fury's office.

...

Fury's office had no lock on its door. It had no video cameras in its walls. It had nothing to defend it save the fact that it was in fact Nick Fury's office.

This stopped anyone from going in there unless summoned, save for Maria. None of them felt like risking Fury's wrath, and the vague threat of the man was enough to keep them all out of there, normally.

Not now, though. Coulson had things he needed to find.

He let himself in quietly and went right for his desk, opening up the drawers. The Avengers Initiative files were in the top drawer—blatantly placed in an unlocked desk, but Phil knew that Fury knew full well no agent would ever dare come in here.

Except him. Because he had lost enough. They had finally done it; they had pushed their best man off the brink. He would not lose his team. Could not.

Phil was not a fool; he took only a few missions out of the file. The ones he deemed the most dangerous. Fury would notice, in time, but by the time that he did, Phil hoped to have gotten Steve to wake up and realize the danger. Once that happened...they would be safe. They could run.

But where to go that was safe from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s clutches? Back to Asgard, maybe? Live the rest of their lives there? It wouldn't be so bad. Thor spoke of it as a beautiful golden city, and they would be honored as heroes. If that was where they had to go, then...well, that was where they had to go.

Phil sighed. He would discuss it with the team later. For now, he wanted to get the hell out of here, and—

He tensed, realizing the doorknob was turning.

Phil panicked, not even realizing his mind had become chaotic pleas to hide and run until he felt something stir within him.

...

Loki lifted his head up, the bags under his eyes tightening as he blinked, opening his eyes wide to look up at the world above his cage.

Someone was looking through Fury's files. He could sense them. He didn't know who they were, his mind was too foggy for that...but they were helping. There was no ill will towards their actions—in fact, he could sense an overwhelming, fierce protective instinct within the person. It was...familiar, but his mind hurt...

Fury approached, though; the person within did not know. Loki winced, his mind throbbing.

He had to do this. He could not let this person, this protector, fall to Fury...he might become an ally, and Loki needed all the help he could get.

Pushing as hard against the barriers of his mind as he possibly could, the god sent the wisp of a suggestion towards Fury. Too exhausted to do further, he slumped against the walls of his cage, breathing heavily.

...

Coulson heard Fury pause at the door. There was a soft, annoyed mutter, then the flutter of a leather coat; the Director had stormed off. Coulson waited until he heard nothing but silence echoing back at him to look around the room and promptly tear out of there, keeping a brisk, measured pace down the hall so as not to attract suspicion.

_Laufeyson? I might have a plan. I need to talk to the team. Are you okay? I just got out of Fury's office._

There was a sharp note of shock in his mind.

 _Son of Coul? That was_ you _? I did not know you had such aggressive tactics in your repertoire. Impressive. I used a mental command to force him away. I am glad you got out safely._

Coulson sighed, relieved, and made his way to the doors.

 _Thank you, Laufeyson. I owe you my life._ He thought, genuinely touched by the god's protection.

_As do I, Son of Coul, for it is your cunning that will free me. Do not worry; I think this a fair trade. Go, now. Your team will have need of you, I am sure._

_I'm sure. Goodbye, Laufeyson. I will see you soon. As will Thor._

A small, warm note of pleasure. Coulson was gone after that, driving off base and picking up his phone, calling his lovers to explain. He was sure Thor would want to know as well; a reason to be proud of his brother, to have hope...

The one major worry he still had was Steve and Tony. He knew whatever was going on in that mansion wouldn't be good...


	106. The Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they head out to Afghanistan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, hope you enjoy. I would love to know if you did. Writing this gets really lonely sometimes. Well, it did. I've stopped writing it. But it hasn't stopped being lonely.

Coulson was right, (but then again, he usually was.) Tony was _furious._

He and Steve had made it up to the bedroom and were currently seated on the bed—well, Steve was. Tony was pacing and snarling, his face pale, his eyes wild and panicked. When they met Steve's, they were not seeing him, not really—he was looking at someplace else, far away.

" _You don't get to come!_ " He screamed, his voice breaking beneath the weight of his words. "You _can't_ come! I don't want you anywhere _near_ that hellhole, Steve! Don't you fucking _get it!_? No! No, I don't want your fucking _protection_ , not when it means you have to go _there_!"

Steve watched him quietly for a second.

"I don't _care_ if you don't want it. You don't get to shove me away when it's no longer _convenient_ for you to be protected, Tony. You are _not_ going into a warzone. Not _now_. Not _ever._ Not alone," Steve said. His voice was barely above a murmur, but it was strong and firm.

"If you go, I'm _gonna be_!" Tony snarled. "Don't you get it? I'm doing this to protect _you!_ If—if you go, Steve—" Tony swallowed, his face paling. "God. You'll die, oh god...no. No, you won't. Because you aren't going. I am a selfish bastard, but even I know where to draw the line. You. Stay. Here. Where it's safe."

"Are you scared of going back, Tony?" Steve asked, his voice soft. Tony laughed; it was a short, hopeless bark with no humor in it.

"Yes! Yes, of _course_ I'm fucking _scared_! I was held prisoner there for _months_ , half-dead and surrounded by men who were perfectly ready to _shoot me_ if I didn't do what they wanted! Why in the _fuck_ would you _ever_ want to go there?" Tony snarled.

"Because you're scared," Steve said simply.

Tony fell silent.

"You're frightened to go. Would I ever let you go anywhere that frightened you without offering my protection, Tony? No. Why on Earth would I decide you should go to _Afghanistan_ , a place that, aside from being a war zone, might very well trigger your post-traumatic stress disorder, without me? I'm a _soldier_ , Tony. You're my lover. You won't go alone. I can't let you," Steve said, standing up and going to embrace him. When Tony flinched away, Steve just nodded in understanding and waited, watching him.

"I..." Tony swallowed, running a hand through his hair. "No, you...you can't, I...I can't..."

He shook his head, approaching Steve hesitantly. Steve stayed still as marble, quiet and waiting, the picture of patience. Tony took a minute to convince himself to do it, but soon enough, he had curled himself against Steve, and allowed Steve to hang his arms loosely over his shoulders.

"Please don't go," he whispered. "I'm so scared. I'm so scared I'll lose you. I can't lose _one more thing_ to that place. It already took my heart _once_ , damn it!"

Steve closed his eyes and shuddered, as if Tony's words caused him actual, physical pain. Still, the Captain held firm.

"I know, Tony. But that's _exactly_ why I'm going. Because I'm scared that I'll lose you," Steve said. Something had caught in the back of his throat, getting more and more painful as he breathed. Every breath was a second in which he could remember the fall.

"Steve...look, you—"

"I won't be _enough,_ " Steve snarled, unable stop himself, " _that's_ what I'm scared of. That I'll go with you and it _still won't be enough_. Because it wasn't last time."

Tony looked pained. He didn't say anything, though, because what did you say to that? What could you say that would fill the wound left by someone dead before you were even born?

"I..." Tony swallowed, his throat flexing as he looked at Steve, tears in his eyes. "If...if I promise...if I promise you'll b-be enough, you won't—you won't do anything crazy? You won't...make me go through what you went through? After last time?"

Steve's whole body seemed to grow heavy with despair. It took the strength of Atlas to simply nod.

"Yeah, Tony," he murmured, his voice rough and pained. "Yeah. I'll come back. But...don't _you_ make me go through it again. I barely survived last time." He looked up at him. "Fair trade?"

Tony nodded.

They just looked at each other for a few minutes, all their promises being made in the thick silence that permeated the room.

Then, without a word, Tony climbed into Steve's lap and simply sat there for a time, shaking.

"Tony, I love you so much," Steve said. He sounded defeated and worn down. "It'll be all right, Tony. For you, I'll be enough."

"More than enough," Tony replied, his voice rough, and with that he kissed Steve, pushing him down on the bed and attacking his lips, his caresses savage and rough as he grasped at Steve like he was drowning, and Steve was all he had left to cling to.

Steve held him tight and allowed Tony to kiss him just the way he knew his lover needed to, half-tearing at him in the way he gripped Steve's shirt. Tony's kiss burned, but he had been trapped in ice for over half a century—he could use a bit of a burn, he figured. This one was slow and warm and built up so nicely in his chest...it was worth the hint of pain that came with it.

He tilted his head up a bit, allowing Tony to slip his tongue into his mouth. His lover dominated the kiss; he didn't mind letting Tony have his turn to dominate. He knew he needed the control, the reassurance that Steve would be with him, would stay safe. Tony asked so little of him, and Steve knew that meant he had to give him everything, unheeded and unasked for.

Tony clung to Steve, his hands shaking as they slipped beneath Steve's shirt; he tensed, but Tony just stroked the skin, as if simply to take it in. He nuzzled Steve's neck and whimpered, frightened.

"Kisses?" Tony asked. "C'mon, Steve. Kisses. Petting. Just—I _can't_ anymore, you gotta do something, or I'll _burst_ —"

"Tony, please," Steve said, "you're not ready yet. You're not ready. You're panicking, you just got over the fear of going back to Afghanistan, I need you to please calm down and sit here with me. Don't push yourself too fast, or you'll break."

"But I _want it_ ," Tony begged, clinging to him. "Please, god, I _want it,_ I want it so _bad_ , it _hurts_ , it _hurts_ , c'mon, Steve, _Steve_ —"

"You need to calm down first," Steve said firmly, holding his hips steady to keep him still on his lap. "It hurts because you're forcing your body between extremes. Stop, Tony. Enough. I don't want to do this with you right now. I want you to calm down, take a few deep breaths, and relax first. Can you do that for me? Can you sit here while I find us something to eat, and then sit with me while we watch a movie? If you can calm down for me, we'll re-assess this later. But you are _not ready._ Not right now. No matter how much you want it."

Tony groaned with frustration, shaking and clinging to Steve.

"I can't," he whispered, his voice high and desperate. "Oh, god, I _can't_ , it _hurts,_ I'm _scared_ , please—"

"Okay, okay. I'm here. I'm right here. Don't say anything, sweetheart. Don't wind yourself up. Don't be afraid. I'm right here. Breathe. Just breathe. I'm right here. Tony, it's going to be okay. You just need to shut down. Don't think about anything; not me, not Afghanistan, not yourself. Just sit here. I'm not going to leave you," Steve said, stroking his hair.

Tony relaxed by degrees. Steve knew it would take time, and that was exactly what he had promised Tony, and so he waited. He did not move, save for on occasion running a warm, comforting hand down Tony's back. Whenever Tony flinched at the feeling, Steve pulled away immediately.

Steve could tell when he had begun to settle by the arc reactor. Its whirring had been high, whining, and non-stop when Tony had started to panic; now it was back to its normal, gentle purr. Steve cupped Tony's chin, and when he didn't flinch, kissed his forehead.

"Okay," he said. "Time to lay down. I'm going to go make us some dinner. You put on whatever movie you like. I'll be back very soon, and we'll eat and watch a movie."

Tony nodded, closing his eyes and lying down, breathing in slow, measured beats. Steve stroked the side of his face, running a thumb over his lover's stubble and smiling before going downstairs for food.

He was quick; two sandwiches and a shared bowl of popcorn, before returning upstairs to find Tony watching a movie he didn't recognize.

" _Kill Bill_ ," Tony said, at Steve's baffled glance. "I like watching action movies before stuff like this. It makes it feel less real."

"Okay, sweetheart," Steve agreed, setting the sandwiches and popcorn down. "So long as you eat, I'm okay with whatever we watch."

Tony gave him a tiny smile of contentment and tucked into his food as soon as he watched Steve do the same. For a few hours, they watched the movie; they heard the others come home, but as expected, no one bothered the two of them.

Steve finally watched the credits roll with a sigh, turning over to find Tony looking at him, curious. He wasn't desperate, nor hungry for his touch—not that Steve could see in his eyes, anyway. So he nodded, asking, "Tony? Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, thanks," Tony murmured. "A bit. I guess I needed that. I'm...glad nothing happened then. It wouldn't have helped."

"No, it wouldn't have," Steve agreed, his voice warm as he brushed his lips across Tony's. "Glad you saw that for yourself. I'm so proud of you, Tony."

He relaxed at those words to such an obvious degree that Steve had to wonder how often he'd heard them.

"Can...can we now, though?" Tony haphazarded. "Not a lot, okay, I know. But...please. I don't want to go. I'm—okay, to be honest, I'm scared shitless and I wanna be held. Steve, please."

Steve kissed his forehead and pulled him close, stroking his hair and nodding in agreement.

"Ssh, ssh. I'm okay with some petting now, Tony. I want you to feel warm and safe and loved, I promise. I'll let you know if we go too far, okay?" Steve said. Tony nodded, desperately eager. Steve sighed and smiled, amused, and stroked Tony's hair.

He took off his own shirt before slowly and gently undressing Tony, kissing the arc reactor as he pulled up Tony's shirt, rubbing the rim before hesitantly stroking his nipples.

Tony grinned and laughed, patting Steve's hand.

"No, seriously, it feels good. You don't have to touch me like I'm gonna burn you," Tony said. It was flippant and snarky, but Steve could feel a bit of hesitancy and hurt beneath his words.

He immediately resolved to do something about that, and promptly did so by putting his mouth on Tony's nipple, sucking and licking and nibbling as Tony hissed in shock, gripping Steve's shoulders as his lover lapped at his nipples, firming them into peaks as he lifted his head up to look at Tony. There was still a swirl of panic and fear and worry in his eyes. Steve had to soothe him.

He smiled, kissed Tony's cheek, and began to slide his pants down, slowly and carefully. Tony looked shocked; Steve grinned and kissed his forehead.

"Nothing serious," he warned him, "you know—"

"Yes, I know..." Tony sighed. "Look, if you don't want—"

"Tony, I do. I'd like to...touch you a bit. Just because I'm not ready for sex—"

"All right, fine! Whatever, it doesn't...doesn't matter," Tony murmured, though it was very clear that it in fact did. Steve sighed and hugged him.

"I love you. And I love you for plenty of reasons that don't involve your body. Once you recognize that, Tony, I'd be more than willing to make love to you. The problem is that right now you're treating sex like it's the foundation of this relationship, rather than just a small part of it," Steve sighed. "Tony, I don't want you for your body, or your money, or anything like that. I just want to be with _you_. Please let me."

Tony let Steve hold him for a minute or two, quiet and considering.

"You _do_ want me, though, right?" Tony ventured, hesitant. Steve huffed.

"Tony, I want you in every way humanly possible. But I don't want that until you realize that isn't the only thing I want out of you. Do you understand?" He said, keeping his voice stern. Tony stared at him.

"...I guess." He mumbled. He sounded petulant...but he also sounded like he wasn't lying about understanding. Steve sighed, relieved.

"Okay, sweetie. Then how about I show you what I think you _are_ ready for?" He purred in Tony's ear.

Tony shivered and moaned softly. Steve figured that was a yes.

He got Tony out of his pants before slowly and steadily removing his own; the only thing separating him from Tony as he laid down with his lover was a pale blue pair of briefs.

Steve smiled and cradled Tony close, cupping the back of his head with one hand as he pulled him up onto his lap with the other, his hand slowly moving down to stroke Tony's back.

Tony arched up into the touch, moaning his approval, urging Steve to go lower with a soft whine of pleasure. Steve kissed his neck and nodded, slipping his hand down to cup

Tony's bottom, squeezing gently. Tony whimpered and gasped, delighted.

In return, his hands went to Steve's hips before slowly moving down; his fingers were slow and skillfull as they massaged him. Steve sighed, pleased, and nuzzled Tony's cheek.

"That really feels very nice," Steve murmured. "I didn't think it could feel so good..."

"Give it time," Tony growled into his neck, nipping at the skin, "I can show you a lot better. Promise."

"Later," Steve reminded him, his voice stern. "For now...I just want to hold you, okay? I want you to know that you're safe. As long as you're with me, no matter where we are...you're safe."

Tony moaned, quivering in Steve's arms as his lover touched him, soft and gentle and kind.

"Good," he whispered, "that's good. Safe. Safe...with you. Okay, Steve. Love you."

Steve smiled and picked Tony up, settling him down on his chest and running a hand down from his neck to his hips, tickling the skin. He wrapped them both up in a blanket, letting Tony lie on top of him and trace the lines of all his muscles, to get the feel of his lover beneath him and remind himself that he was safe, supported by all his lover's strength.

"Love you too, Tony." Steve murmured in reply. He turned off the light and basked in the glow of the arc reactor; a reminder that Tony was alive, had stayed alive to be with him, and he owed it to Tony to keep him that way. "Sweet dreams."

The two fell asleep, in love and content.

...

The next morning, Phil came to get them with a face of stone. Steve knew if he put even a single crack in it, the wall would come crumbling down. Phil didn't need to have a breakdown over their departure. He needed to keep his lovers safe, as well as the team.

So Steve only hugged him before taking Tony's hand. They had showered together, dressed one another, and prepared for the fight ahead.

Pepper stood in the kitchen, tears in her eyes. She was not Phil; she discarded stone, found it constricting and harsh. She would weep. Tony deserved her tears.

Tony held her tight and stroked her hair.

"Don't go job hunting this time, okay? I promise to come back, for real," Tony promised. "Preferably without another arc reactor. I'd just start buying bras to cover them up."

Pepper actually laughed, nuzzling his neck.

"You ass," she mumbled, smiling. "I love you, Tony. I love you so much."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her forehead. There was tenderness in his embrace; he was relieved to, for once, be the one who got to care.

"I love you too, Pep," he replied. Pepper held him tight.

"I'll keep Bruce safe. Keep the team safe. No one else will be hurt while you're gone, I promise," she told him. Tony nodded as he pulled away, going to stand by Phil and Steve.

"I know, Pep. I do. I trust you and Phil both. Just...keep _yourselves_ safe too, okay?" Tony asked. Pepper nodded.

"Yeah. Of c-course. You...you, too," she whispered.

Tony's heart ached. No, he didn't want to leave his team. But he had no choice. He was already dragging Steve along for the ride.

"I will. C'mon, Steve. Let's go," Tony said, turning away. Pepper would not see him cry. Even if she probably knew he was, anyway.

Steve took his hand, gentle and warm. His grip was like a promise as they walked out of the house together. Tony held his hand tight—a reminder of his strength. _All would be well_ , that grip promised, _I will protect you._

Steve squeezed back, as if to promise the same in return.

...

Phil pulled up to base, and very quietly turned around to look at them both.

"If there is any sign of trouble there, any at all, I want you to call me. Not Fury. Me." Phil said. Steve nodded, though he looked hesitant. Phil hadn't cracked, but there was something off about him—something dark. Something dangerous.

"Of course, Phil. We'll be fine. I'm not letting Tony out of my sight, ever. He'll be safe." Steve promised. Phil sighed and sank into his seat.

"I know. I trust you, Captain. But I don't trust Fury. Watch his back. And be careful. Please." Coulson pleaded. Steve put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Of course, Phil. We'll be all right. You just keep an eye on the team. If I'm with Tony, he'll never come to harm, I swear it." Steve whispered, pressing a tender kiss to Tony's cheek.

Tony smiled, though it was clear he was still nervous, and understandably so.

His lover helped him out of the car and Phil walked in before them like a shield, eyes blazing and bearing strong and proud. If anyone had even approached Steve or Tony at that point, he probably would have shot them. Phil was at the end of his rope, and everyone could see it.

Tony gripped Steve's shield for comfort as they approached the plane hangar, where Fury was to meet them. To their surprise, as they did, a familiar figure stood by the plane; Doctor Athena Danvers.

"They want me on base while you two are there," she said by way of explanation. "'Side from Captain Rogers, I know the reactor best."

"Thank you, Doctor Danvers. I feel...a little better having you with us." Steve smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Sorry I can't be too thrilled...I'd rather Tony wasn't going at all."

"Yeah, I hear you. Don't worry, I'm not offended," she sighed and gripped her medical bag. "Fury's gonna be here soon. Phil! Out!" She snapped.

Coulson actually snarled at her. Athena didn't so much as flinch.

"You're _no help_ right now, and y'know what, you see Fury and you're gonna scratch his eyes out, and you goddamn _know that._ Go home, cry, take care of your lovers, and stay the fuck off base for a day or two," Athena told him. "Doctor's orders."

Coulson stared at her for a second.

Then he nodded, backing down entirely. He embraced Steve and Tony once, whispering, _"I love you both. Be safe,_ " into their ears quietly enough so Athena didn't hear, and leaving without another word.

She gave them a look, and reading their expressions, shook her head in apology.

"...Sorry. Must've sounded harsh to you boys, but I've known Phil for ten years. He tends to let people leaving him hit him hard; he isn't used to it. Loneliness, he knows. Loss...he doesn't." She sighed and relit another cigarette. "He went to shit when Clint and Natasha were gone. I'm just trying to head another incident like that off at the pass."

"Understandable. But we won't be gone long, and I'll keep Tony safe. He'll be fine soon. "Steve said. He almost believed everything he said.

Fury approached them with a calm, casual smile on his face. Steve narrowed his eyes despite himself, but he stood at attention.

"Sir," he greeted him. Fury acknowledged it with a nod before turning to Tony.

"You'll be given the files on the Ten Rings' new whereabouts by Athena on the plane. Don't lose your cool down there, Tony. We need you. Steve, you keep him from cracking. And try to find the Mandarin, will you? The last thing we need is another warlord down there running things." Fury said. Tony's face was pale, and he nodded, tight-lipped. Steve just watched silently.

"Athena, I'll radio in any new orders through you. Keep in contact with Tony while he's in the suit; he'll show you how. I believe he already taught Steve." Fury said. Tony flinched.

Steve didn't so much as glance at the sunglasses he knew were in Tony's pocket.

"Goodbye, Director. We'll be safe." He said. Fury nodded. His single eye glimmered, as if amused.

"'Course, Captain. That's why you're there, right?" He replied.

Steve got on the plane without another word. The second Tony did as well, Steve bundled him into his arms.

For awhile, they sat there. The both of them were shaking. Athena got on the plane last. For a second, she simply watched.

Without a word, Athena started up the jet and got them off the ground, letting the two of them have as much peace and quiet as she could. She tuned out the occasional pained cries, as well. They could wait to learn about whatever faced them until they were ready.

Eventually, Steve came up to the cockpit, hesitant.

"Ma'am, do you have the file?" He asked. Athena sighed, pointing to her bag, slumped against the hull of the plane.

"Yeah, Cap. You and Tony go over it quick, okay? I have sleeping pills in the bag, too, if he wants them. It'll be a long flight, and he doesn't sound up for rest, even if he needs it." Athena snorted. "Understatement of the century. Does he have a therapist? Because he _definitely_ has PTSD."

Steve shrugged haplessly, shaking his head.

"I...I don't know, ma'am. I don't think S.H.I.E.L.D. would let him see another one aside from theirs—and she didn't seem to make a positive impression on Phil. I would rather he wait until he can find one of his own volition." Steve replied. Athena sighed.

"Shit, those three had their psych eval?" She said. At Steve's confused look, she explained, "It's sort of a gossip fodder for the agents when they do; Black Widow and Hawkeye are like legends, and Phil...well, Phil's an enigma, is all. Anything happen?" She asked. Steve shrugged.

"I don't know, ma'am. They're all okay...but Phil didn't seem pleased." He replied. She sighed.

"I bet he wasn't. I'll see if I can talk to him after the mission. You go take care of Tony, Captain. And get him some sleeping pills." Athena demanded. Steve nodded, picking up her bag and taking out the files, and a small green bottle with it.

He went back to his lover, who was curled up shaking in the seat; Steve came close and cradled him in his lap, stroking his hair.

"Honey, I got the file. I'm going to read it; if you're not ready, I understand. Athena gave me sleeping pills as well, for when you're done; will you take them, please?" Steve asked.

Tony nodded. "Gimme the Mandarin one, I know about the Ten Rings. You read that," Tony said. Steve nodded, passing him the file. He paused as Tony took it.

"Pepper told me once you didn't like getting handed things," he said, bewildered. Tony rolled his eyes and gave him a look of amused exasperation.

"But it's _you_. I don't mind," he said. Steve grinned, giving him a slow, soft kiss.

The two of them kept reading, quiet. Steve didn't like the looks of these people—knowing they were the group who took his Tony and hurt him made him even angrier. It helped, of course, that they were just as bad as the Nazis he had fought; they were bullies, plain and simple. Far worse than that, even.

This mission might end up doing some good, he admitted to himself—but _why_ did Tony have to come along? A superior needed to take care of their subordinates, and sending Tony out into Afghanistan didn't seem like much care!

Steve bared his teeth and gripped Tony tight, cradling him close. Tony snuggled against him, feeling his rage thrumming beneath his skin. He murmured soothingly, stroking Steve's hair. Steve allowed Tony to calm him, to gentle him and soothe him. It filled him with relief...and a renewed urge to protect.

This was wrong. This might be his superior's orders—but this was _wrong._ He _knew_ that. He just...didn't know what to do about it!

He would ask Phil, he decided. Phil would know what to do.

Satisfied with that idea, Steve finished up reading the file and went back to cradling Tony. He would keep Tony safe until they could get back to their team. Then they would sort a few things out, that was for sure!

Steve kissed and gentled Tony for a little while, soothing him with soft strokes to his back, hair, and shoulders. Tony finally finished the file and sighed, looking up at him.

"Just one pill, okay?" He asked. "I'm already kind of tired. My mind's sorta crashed and burned, at this point."

"I understand. Come here, sweetheart; I promise, you can rest safe in my arms. We'll be okay." Steve soothed him, picking him up as he unscrewed the bottle of pills, taking one out. Tony opened his mouth obediently; Steve placed it on his tongue. Tony swallowed and curled close against Steve's chest, his ear pressed against him in such a way that allowed him to hear his heartbeat. Steve smiled, pleased, and bundled Tony up in his jacket. 

Tony began to snore, quiet and soft; Steve couldn't help but laugh a little. He sounded so sweet...so innocent. His beautiful, lovely little Tony. He would keep him safe and sound; he swore to that.

"Captain?" Athena called back. "Take a couple of pills, willya? It's a thirteen-hour plane ride; you need all the rest you can get."

"All right...though I don't know how well these pills will work, considering my metabolism." He replied, taking out the bottle again and looking at it. Steve sighed; he would take three, just in case.

He swallowed them dutifully and snuggled up with Tony under the leather jacket, warm and content with his lover. As he dozed off, he made sure Tony was still within hearing range of his heartbeat.


	107. First Day on the Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mission time; action and fun times with bombs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, dudes. Hope you're all hanging in there. :3 I know this is a super long fic! I am so grateful for the people who stuck around and kept reading. I really hope you're enjoying it.  
> Finally, some action and a change of pace. This is the beginning of the end, guys. <3  
> Okay sort of. I honestly might just chop off some for my own sanity and update schedule's sake. I need to see how many chapters are left...

Steve awoke with about an hour left of the trip; Tony continued to sleep peacefully. Steve cradled him onehanded as he ate—Athena had snapped at him until he surrendered to dinner and ate as asked. He stroked Tony's hair and hummed softly, giving him the half-remembered lullabies of his mother. Tony's chest rose and fell, peaceful and calm; Steve's heart swelled with love and the overwhelming urge to protect.

About an hour later, Steve felt the plane hit the ground; Athena came to stand beside him just as Tony began to stir.

"We're here, soldier," she said. "Check in at base first, all right? They want you both out right away, god only knows why. They've got a bead on one of the gang members, I guess."

"All right. Thank you, Athena." Steve replied, standing up. Before they even got off the plane, Tony was in the Iron Man armor, the only part of his body left visible being his face. Steve took his hand.

"Sorry," Tony murmured. "It makes me feel safe."

"Don't apologize. I want you to feel as safe as possible throughout all of this," Steve replied, kissing his cheek gently. Tony smiled, giving him one last soft kiss before the faceplate closed and they headed down into base together.

A small, young woman with light brown skin greeted them at the door, ushering them inside. A large map was splayed out over the wall; a blinking red light lit up on it.

"Captain, Iron Man, this is where we believe one of the higher-ups of the Ten Rings gang is hiding. It's your job to infiltrate this base, find them, and if possible, destroy the base and take them out." She passed Steve a picture. "This is the man in question."

His skin was dark and his eyes glittered viciously, even in the picture; his head was shaved and a gorgeous, intricate dragon tattoo climbed over his shoulder. 

"If you say so, ma'am. We'll get going right away. Thank you for the information," Steve said, beckoning to Tony. The two of them headed out; as they did, Tony grabbed Steve and held him close.

"Hold onto me, okay? We're going flying," he murmured. Steve smiled despite himself and gripped Tony tight. For a moment, he could pretend this was all okay—that they were just soaring, having some fun in the city for a day.

Then as Tony blasted upwards into the sky and Steve caught sight of the endless sands that had once held his love captive, the feelings of hope and hesitant delight were whisked away on the breeze, with the rest of the loosely-kept sand.

They soared for awhile, Tony's suit scanning for the base. Steve clung tightly to him, stroking the back of the suit as soothingly as he could. It wasn't much, but he hoped it might calm Tony down.

"If we can just destroy the base, we don't even have to go in. It'll be all right!" Steve shouted over the wind. "Don't worry! I'm going to protect you, I swear!"

"I know!" Tony called back, the suit making his voice electric and frazzled. The relief in it, though, remained clear, and it soothed Steve just a little to know his promises of protection had not, for once, remained unheeded.

Steve held Tony tight as they kept going, soaring over the sands while the armor scanned for signs of life. Finally, JARVIS responded, "Tony, the base is just beneath us, a hundred feet down."

"Ugh, it's underground? We'll flush 'em out," Tony replied. "Steve, I'm gonna put you down; I don't want you near the weapons. I'll come get you as soon as I can; you've gotta be out of the way of the blast radius, so it'll take me a few minutes." 

Tony set him down and flew off, speeding for the base. Steve tensed, grasped his shield, and waited. He wanted this fight—the sooner he could clear out this gang, the better. He wanted to take Tony home as fast as possible.

He felt the blast before he heard it; Steve shut his eyes as dust began to flood them, long enough for him to feel the butt of a gun being slammed across his face. He snarled and pushed his shield out in the direction of the gun he had shoved away, before rolling and dodging long enough to get away and clear his eyes.

Before he could reassess the situation, a group of five men had surrounded him, all of them with guns. Steve figured they had been returning to the base that Tony had just, in fact, demolished; regardless, the guns pointed in his direction mattered a bit more to him at this current point in time.

He knew if he opened his mouth he would be dead. If he moved, he would be dead. He couldn't fight them—not with this many guns and his eyesight impaired. Tony couldn't fight them—he was too far away to call, and Steve wouldn't put him in danger.

Fortunately, Iron Man could.

Steve allowed the sniper-precise bullets to do their job as he scrabbled away, grabbing his shield and rubbing at his eyes while he heard the whir of his lover's jetboots. 

"Steve? Steve, are you okay?!" Tony demanded. He groaned, clinging tightly to his lover and nodding in agreement.

"Yes, I'm fine. We got the base—we should scan the nearby area for any more of them hanging around," Steve said, allowing Tony to support him in his arms as they headed out,

Tony soaring up into the sky as they began scanning for other members of the cell.

"None of them were the guy we wanted, but I know there were some people in the base from the heat readings. If we don't find anyone that matches his description, we should head back and report that the base was destroyed, at least. They'll send someone to look through the rubble—hopefully we'll have dealt with this, if we're lucky." Tony grumbled. Steve nodded in agreement, holding his lover tight.

"Yes, for your sake..." Steve murmured, kissing the faceplate. "Tony, all I want is for you to be safe."

"I know, Steve. I'll keep you safe too; no fussing, okay?" Tony promised with a soft murmur in return. Steve knew he was smiling beneath the faceplate. His heart swelled with love and he hung on tighter.

"I know, Tony; let's head back to base. I'd like to make sure the armor wasn't damaged. You're okay, right?" Steve asked. Tony nodded as they soared forward, the S.H.I.E.L.D. base looming in the distance.

"Yeah, I'm all good. I'll be just fine after a shower, honey. We'll strip down and go over injuries with Athena, then we'll see what can be done about dinner. Promise. I won't skip food, Steve; I mean, not knowing I'd get the brunt of mother henning on me," Tony told him. Steve grinned, delighted, and clutched Tony close as he cut the jetboots and slowly lowered himself down onto the ground, walking hand in hand with Steve into the base. 

Steve noticed Tony's grip was strong, stronger than even he realized—perhaps it was the suit, Steve reasoned, but as a small knot of agents approached them, and Tony gripped him ever tighter, he figured that might not be all of it.

He gave his hand a quick squeeze to soothe his worries before addressing the agents. They seemed in awe of him, but none of them seemed willing to approach Tony. Steve frowned, but didn't remark on it. Not yet.

"We destroyed the base and eliminated members of the gang—but we don't know if the main target was inside. We were hoping someone could sift through the rubble. Tony's suit was a bit injured by the blast, so I wanted him to get a check-over..." Steve trailed off hesitantly.

"A check-over this early? Captain, we need you out there! You two are our best agents right now, and you can't just drag him back here whenever you think he's hurt! Why the _hell_ did you think it was a good idea to bring him back?" The evident leader snapped.

Steve went very still for a second.

"Tony," he said through clenched teeth, "suffered for _months_ as a prisoner of war in this very same desert. I came along _solely_  to protect my Tony from his post-traumatic stress disorder and ensure no further harm came to him. Tony is my priority. Tony is my _only_ priority. I'm not a secret agent. I'm a _soldier_. And I will _never lose another man_ for as long as I live."

All of them were silent. Steve took Tony's hand and put it to his cheek, tender and gentle.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let's get the suit off so you can make any quick repairs, and then pay a visit to Athena," he was gentle as he led Tony away, but the entire base sensed his anger; as they walked, everyone suddenly found excuses to be as far away from them as humanly possible. They watched them wide-eyed, hesitant to intervene.

Steve brought Tony into the infirmary, going back to the makeshift briefing room to get the briefcase. Once he did, Tony let the suit fall away with a soft sight of relief, putting it aside for later repairs. 

"Captain? You okay? You know you got a black eye out there, right?" Athena asked. "Hold still. Might be a concussion."

"If it is, I'll heal from it soon enough. The serum works wonders on things like that. Could you check over Tony, doctor? He's the one who was in the blast range, and I think he got a bit battered in the suit." Steve said.

Athena nodded, gesturing for Tony to sit; he did as he was told as she ran a quick finger down to his neck, checking his pulse.

"Nothing major in the heart area, but you look a bit bloodied. Are your ears ringing?" She asked. Tony winced.

"A bit. I had to get close to blow the place up, and the suit's got insulation, but not that much. Gonna modify it when I make the repairs." He said. Athena nodded.

"All right, all right. Did you bring a spare reactor, just in case?" She asked. Tony gestured to the briefcase.

"Yep. S'in there. Password-locked, too. That way I can keep it safe from anyone who might want it for...other reasons." Tony sighed. Steve nodded.

"That's probably the best idea anyone's had about the mission lately," Steve remarked with a sigh as Athena looked him over. Tony nodded.

"Yeah, I know," he sighed, stretching out and looking at Athena plaintively. "Do I have to go back out again?"

Steve growled, low and deep in his throat. Athena tensed at the sound.

"Just for awhile. Gotta lead our agents back to the base and show them where to start looking. Aside from that...I dunno, Tony." Athena murmured. "Believe me, if it was my choice, you wouldn't be here at all..."

"I know, Athena. Thanks," Tony winced as she cinched a few bandages around his arm. "Ow, fine, nevermind."

Steve smiled, allowing himself a moment to bask in Tony before he was snapped back to reality by the agents at the door. He growled, placing himself between them and his darling on instinct alone.

"Captain, we need you and Iron Man to lead the recon mission back to their base. If you're done with your _examination_?" The lead agent said, putting a mocking emphasis on the last word. Steve snarled, low and deep and ferocious. Before he could verbally eviscerate the other man, Tony put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"C'mon, Cap. We've got a mission to do," Tony reminded him. "We'll be back later, Athena."

"Be careful, Tony. You too, Captain," Athena said. Steve nodded, barely listening; his eyes were consumed by frustration and anger, and as Athena watched him leave with Tony and the others, she couldn't help but wonder how being here would set off the spark of fury she could already see smoldering in the Captain's eyes.

She looked down at the briefcase, still sitting at her feet, and figured she had a pretty good answer to her question right there.

...

Steve and Tony both led the way, Steve keeping a tight grip on Tony as they flew, just high enough to keep above the agents and to search for the base. No, he didn't like this, but Steve grit his teeth and bore it regardless; he had to protect Tony, and this was better than letting him go out alone, he knew that...

"Captain? Are we close?" One of the agents asked. Tony huffed.

"Well, they're _my_ calculations, not Steve's, but yes. Yes, we are. So hurry it up, we don't have all day to excavate; the sand shifting won't help," Tony replied. Steve couldn't help but be a bit amused by his lover's annoyance; he did love to take the credit.

The group managed to make their way down to the remnants of the base; Tony immediately started running scans and searching through the rubble. He and Steve, both of them with enhanced strength, started to rifle through the chunks of concrete and sift through the sand. They opened up a passageway for the other agents to go down and start identifying bodies and looking for information. 

"You're staying up here and standing guard," Steve said to Tony. "I'm going to go head out and see if there's any more stragglers who were out when we blew up base." 

"Yeah, fine. Be careful; call me on the comm if you need me." Tony replied. Steve smiled and gave the faceplate a quick, small kiss before heading out.

He took his time as he searched; it was hard to see in the desert, and he needed to make sure he wasn't overlooking anything. The main base could be anywhere, he figured; this wasn't like H.Y.D.R.A. and their grand, ornate castles and bases. The Ten Rings were smart, and much less focused on flashy statements. Wherever the Mandarin was hiding out...it wasn't going to be conspicuous. 

Steve gripped his shield and frowned, scanning the shifting dunes. No sign of anything; he wanted a look at the maps when they got back to base. He needed to get a better sense of the area, for starters, and possibly some idea of where things were.

He decided to go back to Tony before things got out of hand; if he got lost, he would never hear the end of it from his lover. Besides, he would worry him...

Steve couldn't help but laugh, amused, as he trudged forward. No, Tony would definitely enjoy teasing him if he got lost. He couldn't get lost, regardless; right now, more than ever, Tony needed him by his side. Steve wouldn't fail in that task.

Soon enough, he caught sight of his lover's armor, shining in the bright, harsh sunlight, the sand whipping around it no match for the gaudy glory of the Iron Man suit. Tony looked beautiful in the suit, Steve admitted, and it was all he could do not to just run up to him and kiss him.

Tony turned to look at him, and even under the faceplate, Steve knew he had to be smiling.

"Hey, soldier," Tony greeted him. "Find anything interesting?"

Steve sighed and hefted his shield on his arm, shrugging. 

"Not really. I'd like to take a look at the maps of this area back on base; this isn't like fighting H.Y.D.R.A. anymore. These people really know how to hide. The Red Skull...wasn't as fond of the concept," Steve said. Tony nodded.

"Yeah, no. Dad told me about all his castles. Must be a European thing." He stretched out a bit in the suit and jerked a thumb back towards the rubble. "No sign of our target, but we did get a few more guys down, and some intel outta this. We're going back soon, babe. You ready?"

"Yes, I am. Could we go flying again?" Steve asked with a hesitant smile. "I really do like flying with you."

Steve could practically feel Tony's pleasure enamating from the suit.

"Yeah, of course. Just hang on tight, okay? The last thing I need is for you to become a patriotic pancake in the desert." Tony told him. Steve laughed, holding tight to his lover as Tony wrapped his arms around him, rubbing his back lightly for a second before they soared up into the sky, clear and blue.

The two of them soared back to base, uncaring of the other agents. Part of Steve felt guilty at leaving them behind; then he remembered how they had treated Tony and decided they could very well make it back on their own. 

He stroked the side of Tony's helmet and sighed, smiling at the sight of his lover soaring through the sky. He had never seen this side of Iron Man—the side of it that allowed Tony freedom, and happiness, and the chance to do good, even in the face of his pain. It was a beautiful sight to behold, not in the least of which because of the paint job.

Steve chuckled at his lover's flashy taste in armor and leaned in close, allowing the whirr of the arc reactor to soothe him as they flew back to base. Tony alighted down gracefully, allowing Steve to dismount. He gripped his shoulders, and when Tony's faceplate lifted up, Steve came in for a kiss, still holding on tight.

Tony smiled and wrapped his arms around Steve, embracing him with sun-warmed armor that made Steve shiver with pleasure as the two deepened their kiss, tongues slipping into each others' mouths and exploring, slow and soft and sensuous.

The two of them simply remained there for a few minutes in the sun, locked in one another's embraces and toying lazily with each others' tongues as if they had eternity to do so. Steve cupped Tony's bottom through the suit to hold him steady; Tony grinned and pulled Steve close, holding him around his waist in such a way that their groins met at a comfortable junction. Steve began to tingle pleasantly, and he smiled into the kiss.

The moment was broken when they heard the other agents approach; Tony broke away with a sigh and kissed Steve's cheek as they both headed inside, entwining their fingers as a reminder of the things their tongues could do to one another. Steve got a neat, precise thrill right down the edge of his spine when Tony stuck his tongue out at him, just a bit—enough for the pale pink tip to tease the air.

"When you two are quite done." Athena's voice cut through them in an instant; Steve blushed and mumbled shyly in apology. Tony just preened.

"We're finishing up as we speak, honest; I mean, who could—"

"I want to look at the Captain for a minute, Stark. I didn't get a chance to look him over for injuries." Athena said, her voice sharp. She pointed to a room down the hall. "The maps are in there. I want them in your databanks for safety's sake. Hurry up and you might even get to take Steve off my hands a bit early."

"God, you're a gem. I'll get right on it," Tony said, giving her a quick salute before heading down the hall, the suit falling away from him and into the briefcase she handed off to him as he went. He took out his phone to get photos of the maps; Steve sighed and smiled, amused.

"He's something, isn't he?" He murmured, every inch the man lost in love. Athena sighed and watched him. The doctor in her noticed the shaking and the slow pace of his walk, the pain with which he carried himself here; hunched over just a bit, eyes darting to and fro as if he expected insurgents to dart out at him from nowhere. 

Then she looked over at Steve and it hit her; no, Steve didn't see it. Not because he didn't know the signs of trauma—but around Steve, Tony put it all away. He didn't let it hurt him. He trusted Steve enough that the hurt was shielded, someplace where it couldn't become deeper, more twisted.

Athena felt tears pricking her eyes and hated herself for it.

"Come on, Captain. Let's get you cleaned up," she murmured, leading him into the medical room.

...

She had a few minutes just to check him over for bruises before Steve bolted; Athena sighed and watched him wrench open the door. She understood; he was worried for Tony. But it did sting a little.

He wasn't seriously hurt, though, and so she had to watch him embrace his lover and hug him tightly, stroking his hair and smiling with delight as he led him down the hallway and towards the briefing room. 

Athena just lit a cigarette and locked her door, settling herself in at her desk and closing her eyes, agonized.

...  
  
"That was pretty easy today," Steve remarked. "No trouble to just destroy the base. I'm sure there's more where that came from, though."

"Well, yeah. But between you and me, we can handle 'em." Tony promised, giving him a broad smile. "Don't worry, Steve. I won't freak out on you."

"Tony, that's not what I'm worried about. It's okay if you get scared. That's why I'm here—because I knew this would be traumatizing and stressful for you. I'm fine with that. I'm just...worried we're walking into a trap." Steve frowned, stroking Tony's hair as he led his lover into the main briefing room. He sighed and sat Tony down, kissing the top of his head.

"Back in the war, there were times when H.Y.D.R.A. would let us destroy a small base with little fuss only to spring entire platoons on us. It wasn't pleasant. Dum-Dum almost lost his arm on one of those ambushes..." Steve sighed. "It was close. I don't want a close call like that ever again, understand?"

"...Yeah, Steve. I'll be careful, honest." Tony promised. Steve's eyes had gone dark with worry. He took Steve's hand and kissed it to soothe him, rubbing his thumb in circles across his palm. "Don't worry. I've got a suit of armor and a super-soldier to protect me. I'm safe."

"I know, Tony. I'll make sure you stay that way." Steve promised, his voice soft.

Tony grinned up at him and took his hand as the two of them started looking over the maps. The briefing droned on around them—it wasn't Phil, so neither of them felt like listening. Steve was much more concerned with getting Afghanistan mapped out into the armor, so that Tony wouldn't get lost. He committed the whole thing to memory easily enough, considering how the serum had enhanced his smarts, and Tony was feeding the pictures of the map through his phone to the armor's memory banks. 

Eventually, when they got to tomorrow's mission, Steve tensed and looked up, listening.

"It's twenty miles from here, Captain, but we suspect it's where they're keeping the second in command. The Mandarin, according to our intel on him, is scheduled for a meeting with his second in command tomorrow; if we could somehow get details on their meeting...or, failing that, outst them both...it would be appreciated. That said, we want you in the base and Iron Man providing support outside and around the perimeter." The lead agent said. 

Steve didn't like the thought of Tony being alone and outside, but there wasn't much he could do about it. At least Tony wouldn't be in the heart of the fighting—he would be outside and safe.

Steve nodded in agreement, taking Tony's hand. 

"I understand, sir," he said. "Are we dismissed? Tony hasn't eaten yet, and I'd like him to eat before we rest."

"Dismissed, Captain. Get some rest soon; you'll be deployed early tomorrow," the agent replied. Steve nodded, though there was something to the agent's tone he didn't like. It felt like none of them treated Tony with any respect, and it made him angry...

Tony must've caught the look on his face as they left, because when they went to go get dinner, Tony took his hand and kissed it.

"Don't worry about them. It's a S.H.I.E.L.D. thing; they get separated from their partners on missions sometimes, just to fuck with them. They're angry at me for getting to keep you on a mission." Tony explained. Steve sighed. That sort of justified it...but it didn't make him any less frustrated. 

Tony smiled and snuggled close, kissing Steve's cheek.

"It's okay. Don't fuss; I get it. We'll be gone soon, babe. Don't worry," Tony promised. "Until then, c'mon; this isn't a candelight dinner, but it'll do." He teased.

Steve allowed himself a small laugh as he led Tony off. He was so glad he had his lover by his side in the warzone to keep him sane...

...

Tony laid awake that night as Steve slept beside him, spooning him carefully and wrapping his arms around him so as to provide as much protection and shielding as was humanly possible. Tony closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, softly, counting the beats to his breath and trying to stay calm. 

Steve loved him. Steve would keep him safe. Steve would protect him...and protect the reactor.

Tony lifted up Steve's hands so they fit warm and snug around the reactor. It whirred, as if greeting the man who loved it so dearly. Tony smiled and wrapped the blankets around them tighter.

Steve smiled in his sleep, murmuring soft, dreamy nonsense into Tony's ear. It was loving and soothing enough that Tony found himself slowly being lulled to sleep, comforted by the beauty of Steve's half-dreamed declarations of love and belonging. Steve slept on, unaware of what his barely-there words did to Tony. 

His heart soothed and protected, just for a time, Tony finally allowed himself to rest, wrapping his arms tight around Steve's and keeping his hands around the reactor.


	108. Whiplash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mission happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, minor blood later on, don't worry, all will be well, hope you enjoy the chapter!  
> MCU!Steve--and tbh the MCU as a whole--is a lot more kill-happy. I guess it's just changing values in the world. But I dunno, I tried to avoid too much "rar kill everyone" talk for that reason.

The two of them awoke the next morning, bright and early, to the sounds of everyone else leaving. Tony grumbled, but let Steve awaken beside him at his own pace; he wanted to see what Steve would do when he saw where his hands were.

Tony felt a smile blooming against his neck and he smiled in return as Steve laughed, sending warm huffs of breath across his skin.

"Good morning, Tony." Steve whispered. "Did I make you feel safe?"

"Yes, Steve. You know you always do." Tony murmured. "Now lemme go, okay? We gotta suit up."

Steve sighed and sat up, taking Tony with him, putting him into his lap and cuddling him fiercely.

"Yes, sweetheart. Of course." Steve whispered. "But first...come here, please? May I kiss you?"

Tony grinned, cupping his cheek and coming close.

"Steve, baby, you don't even need to ask," he whispered. With that, Tony closed the gap between them, more than aware of the insistent morning erection tingling warm and pleasant between his thighs—and Steve's own in return. 

They kissed for a few warm, slow minutes, melting against each other in their state of slow, dreamy wakefulness; Tony put his hand over Steve's bottom, a silent question. In reply, Steve shoved Tony's hand down there for him. Tony laughed into the kiss as he felt Steve's hands slip into his briefs, cupping the soft swells of flesh before them.

"Do you know how beautiful you are, sweetheart?" Steve whispered. "I'm so excited to be with you. I can't wait until you're ready. But I'll be there to help you until you are." 

"For you," Tony promised. "God, you could tell me the sky was green and I'd believe you. I'll be beautiful for you, babe. I swear."

"You already are," Steve promised, planting a kiss gently on his neck, nuzzling him and holding him close. "You know that, right?"

"If you say so," Tony rasped, kissing his cheek and sighing with pleasure. "Sure, Steve, of course..."

Steve ruffled his hair and laid Tony down on the bed, looking at him with a pleased smile on his face. 

"Hey," he said. "Later, okay? This is definitely not the place."

"No," Tony agreed with a wince, "it isn't. I'd rather not."

"Okay, okay," Steve agreed, pulling away. "You up for a shower, though?"

"Mhm," Tony replied, stretching out. "You wait here, I'll go first, if that's okay."

"Oh," Steve said with a small smile, "I was thinking it would be a better idea to share water and get down to the meeting room faster. What about you?"

"A solid plan," Tony agreed with a grin as he let Steve pull him to his feet and bring him into the bathroom.

It was a cramped fit but pleasantly so; the two of them were closely entwined as Steve ran soap over Tony's back, scrubbing him clean with utmost affection and love as Tony purred with pleasure and arched his back, laying against Steve's broad chest as he let him toy with his hair, washing it clean as he raised a hand to do Steve's in kind.

The two of them were both warm and slick by the time they turned the shower off, their faces flushed and their grins wide. 

"It felt good to touch you," Tony murmured. "I mean _, really_ good."

"Same to you, Tony," Steve said, kissing his forehead. "C'mon, let's get dressed, okay?"

"Do we have to?" Tony complained, following Steve into their room. Steve huffed and finished towel-drying him with a shake of his head.

"Yes, we do. Come on, Tony," he said. "Let's get this done quick and then we'll come right home, okay? Get this all sorted out and dealt with."

Steve dipped in and kissed the reactor, a reminder that he would keep it safe, before ruffling his hair and helping him dress, the two of them heading down to the meeting room to see what could be done about today's mission.

...

The two of them regrouped in the meeting room like nothing had happened, dressed for combat. The only thing that hinted at anything illicit was the wink Tony gave Steve, but most of them just shrugged it off as a quirk of his. Steve's red face, though, might've been a bit more of a giveaway.

Regardless of what had or hadn't happened this morning, the mission was of prime importance; everyone recognized that. Steve didn't like what the mission entailed...but he knew there was nothing he could do. And, perhaps, Tony would gain some closure from taking out the Ten Rings. That was his only hope for this mission, at this point.

With a soft sigh, Steve clung to Tony. They had offered to drive him with the rest of the unit, but he refused; he wanted to be near Tony as long as possible. Some of the agents looked respectful and understanding; others looked envious and more than a little angry. Steve felt bad for them, truly...but Tony and his needs outweighed all else, especially here.

He kissed the suit's faceplate and gripped Tony tight as they soared through the sky. There wasn't much else to do but hold onto him and pray that he would remain unharmed. If he could capture the Mandarin now and get this over with, quite frankly, he would. This was someone who had inflicted such damage on his Tony. For his sake...Steve would fight. And even if he hated it, even if it would hurt him, he would kill if he had no other choice. This was a battlefield; he was a soldier now. For Tony's sake, he would do anything.

The whisper of the desert sands betrayed no secrets as they soared forward and onward; to comfort himself, Steve leaned in close and listened to the whirr of the reactor. It was still going strong; that meant his darling was doing just fine.

He smiled, relieved, and held on as Tony stroked his back with a single strong hand, soaring throughout the sky as his scanners attempted to pick up heat signals. Through the sand, there was some trouble, but Tony perservered, and Steve did his best to keep his eyes and ears open and observant, even if he knew he couldn't exact detect things like JARVIS could.

"Tony? Are we close?" Steve asked.

"Yep, not much farther. Why, you wanna get down?" Tony teased. Steve grinned.

"No, I could hold onto you forever." He promised, kissing his faceplate. Tony might've blushed under all that metal. Steve just chuckled and held tight, letting Tony continue flying for awhile unimpeded until he suddenly tensed. A low rattle emerged from the armor; a breath Tony didn't even realize he had been holding in.

"...We're here." He murmured. "Steve? Be careful, please. I'll be out here."

"I will be, Tony." Steve promised, letting Tony set him down as the other agents scattered, taking their positions. He gripped his shield and crept inside, quiet and careful despite the seething internal panic over Tony's safety he was currently having.

...

"Stark has _returned_?" The Mandarin said, his eyes aflame with shock. His second nodded, shifting from foot to foot. 

"Yes, my lord. He has returned with S.H.I.E.L.D. and Captain America." His second frowned. "Didn't your predescessor take care of him?"

"Not well enough," the Mandarin said, "the Iron Monger was his undoing. And so I rule, as my fathers before me ruled." He took a sip of his wine. "As for Stark...I will deal with him personally. I have great plans for him."

He paused, considering. His mind whirred, sinking deep into his strategic plans. 

"He will have trauma from his time here. He will not be in the building; he will perhaps be around the perimeter, or some distance away." He stood, took a single ring off his finger, and handed it to his second. "Search the perimeter and surrounding area; take this to deal with him once you have cornered him. I will deal with whomever came in as a distraction," he said. "Perhaps it will be the Captain. What a fight that would be."

The Mandarin stood, his robes whispering against the dusty ground. He left the room, his second following after him to do as he had asked.

...

Steve was painfully reminded of HYDRA bases as he crept through the dim, ominious hallway. The same sense of impending battle lurked around the building. He just hoped Tony could stay out of the way...

Steve heard the swish of robes and tensed. He knew the Mandarin was the type to wear such things...he had to be close. 

Steve bared his teeth in what might've once been a grin.

Good. Good, let him get close. Let him pick a fight here. If he wasn't near Tony, Steve didn't care. He wouldn't let him get away with what he did to Tony. His gang almost took Tony away from him before they could be together—Steve wouldn't stand for that. Not ever.

He drew his shield and waited.

"I know you're out there," he called, "show yourself! I'm not afraid of you!"

There was the soft sound of robes on the floor for a minute more before Steve came face to face with another man. He regarded him with glittering black eyes, his rings shimmering on his fingers in the dim light with an inner fire. Steve growled and prepared his shield.

"It is so good to finally meet the famous Captain America," the Mandarin said. "Tell me, how fares your lover? Surely this is no place for Tony Stark."

 _"You stay away from Tony,_ " Steve snarled, everything but the overwhelming desire to protect ebbing away beneath the swell of fury. "Or I'll end this right now, Mandarin, I swear I will. No one will hurt Tony, not as long as I'm here!"

"Oh, and you are here indeed—but he is not. And what might that entail for our man of iron?" The Mandarin crooned, a wicked smile on his face. "You are a pawn in someone elses' games, Captain. I cannot help but find it amusing." 

"I don't care who's playing what games—I'm keeping Tony safe. If you stand down, I won't destroy this place. I'm giving you one chance; come quietly, or I'll bring everything I am down on your head for what your gang has done to Tony." Steve said.

"Captain, you are ninety four years old. Surely you have lived long enough to know what my answer will be." The Mandarin chuckled, amused, before raising his hand. His rings began to glow with power as Steve threw his shield at him.

It came flying back with a blast from one of the rings—Steve grabbed it and blocked another blast of energy. He didn't know how to turn the rings off, but if he could lure him out, the other agents could deal with him, hopefully...

Another blast ricocheted right off the shield, blowing a hole in the wall; Steve bolted, scrabbling over the rubble and heading for the stairs. The Mandarin followed behind him, in hot pursuit; he continued to fire blasts that destroyed the building around him and bounced harmlessly off his shield. 

Steve grit his teeth and threw his shield at the wall; it opened up a crack big enough for him to punch through another sizable chunk of it. Once the Mandarin reached him, he ducked, allowing another energy blast to widen the hole for him.

Steve clambered through as quickly as he could, trying to reach the door. If he got out there, he could warn Tony—he could keep him _safe..._

Steve headed for the door, but before he could, the Mandarin blasted it right open and strode out before him. Steve clambered through the crater regardless, screaming Tony's name.

Outside, Tony looked up, hearing the sound of Steve's voice. Why was he calling for him? What had gone wrong?

Before he could go investigate, he was stopped by a man in a lush green robe, his face lit up with dark triumph. His eyes had the same wild look as the men who had kept him captive; Tony tensed despite himself. He didn't flee, though he could have—there was too much panic in his heart, too much fear that dragged him down and kept him from flying.

He had just a second to force himself to move before he was caught; the man gripped him by the neck of his armor, the rings on his finger glowing with power as he touched the armor, stopping just over the reactor. Tony's heart began to pound frantically, terror like he hadn't felt in years making him freeze up and shut down.

"Oh, yes," the Mandarin said, "your heart will serve me quite well, Anthony Stark. But not yet."

Just as Steve climbed through the hole where the door had been, the man's hand began to glow with power from the ring on his own fingers, and he plunged his hand deep into the armor, tearing it apart before grasping the reactor and shattering it, the power lashing out and burning Tony's entire chestplate, blood seeping through the twisted metal.

Steve's entire mind short circuited out for a second.

Then he saw only red.


	109. Repair Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets some repairs done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not a medical student, and this is also not a medical-based fic. To be honest, considering all the Iron Man comics I've read, Tony seems to be able to survive for as long as the plot requires, lol. So forgive a bit of artistic license; I tried to keep it as quick and realistic treatment-wise as possible, but...y'know, only so much I can do.

In his rage, he was unsure of what he did as other men approached him, trying to hold him off; he felt the satisfying sound of flesh against steel, and then the warm stickiness of blood seeping into his fingers. All he cared about, however, the one thing his mind could focus on, was his Tony.

Steve grabbed him, thinking only of the day before—Tony's spare reactor. He had to get him back to base. To hell with the mission. To hell with anything else. Let it all burn. Tony _needed him._

"JARVIS, redirect power to what's left of the reactor. Keep him alive and as stable as you can while I get him out of here," Steve said, clambering into one of the ATVs the other agents had brought with them. Tony stirred in his arms, groaning in pain. Steve planted a gentle kiss on his forehead before he put Tony in the backseat carefully, started the car and tore off, his own heart aching with fear and panic.

Tony shivered and shuddered in the backseat, groaning and calling Steve's name. He was inhaling slowly, carefully, trying not to do anything to make the current problem worse as pain lanced through him.

"Tony, I'm right here. Ssh, ssh. I'm right here, I'm right here...it's okay. It's going to be okay. I'm taking you to base. Taking you right to base, where I'll fix you right up. It's okay, Tony. I'm right here. Ssh, ssh, ssh...stay with me, Tony sweetheart, I'm right here..." Steve kept talking to him, sick to his stomach with fear; if Tony didn't respond...

"I know, no need to...to repeat yourself," Tony murmured. Steve's laugh turned into a sob halfway through.

"Okay, okay. Sorry. We're gonna get you home though, I promise. Five more minutes. Can you hold on for me for five more minutes?" Steve asked. Tony nodded.

"Steve, you have to put in the new reactor, okay?" He asked as they tore through the desert sand and headed back to base. "I don't want anyone else to do it. Please, please..."

"I will, I will, but you have to let Athena take care of you. She's going to fix you up and make sure you're okay. I'll put the reactor in, I promise." Steve said. "Please don't die, please, please god, please..."

"Too damn stubborn to die," Tony croaked, his voice hoarse. "Besides, you need me. Who else would you fuss over?"

"I need you, my love. Yes, oh yes, I need you...I need you, I love you, Tony, I love you _so much_ , don't you _dare_ die on me, don't you _dare_ —" Steve cut himself off with a sob as he sped forward, his hands shaking so hard he could barely grip the steering wheel.

"I'm not gonna, promise." Tony murmured. "See? Now You're making...me repeat...myself."

"It's okay, repeat yourself all you want, just talk to me, talk to me _please_ , Tony, Tony oh god..." Steve shook his head as Tony smiled weakly up at him.

"I'm okay, honest. You're going to save me. I'm not scared. It'll be okay," Tony murmured. Steve took his hand from the front seat and nodded.

"Yes, it will be, sweetheart. Just let me get you to base..." He murmured, driving as fast as he could. For a minute or so, there was nothing. Then, after a few more tense seconds, Steve cried out with relief as he saw the base looming on the horizon. He pulled right up in front of it and tore the back door off, taking Tony out and bundling him into his arms.

"JARVIS, detach the armor!" Steve shouted. The AI whirred.

 _"I need the code, sir. Didn't Anthony tell you_?" He said.

"Override! Override, you _have to_ , he's _dying_ —"

"Captain America." Tony said. The armor fell away.

Steve stared at Tony, shocked. His lover just smiled.

"Yeah, I know, I know," he mumbled. "Easy password, but fitting."

Steve gave him a small smile and kissed his forehead. Then he remembered the job he still had to do.

He kicked down the base door and stormed in. No one dared speak in his presence; he was a hurricane, fierce and all-consuming.

" _ATHENA_!" He screamed, his voice ringing through the base. "ATHENA, I _NEED YOU_!"

The doctor came vaulting out of her office, her shoes scuffing the floor as she looked them both over for a second.

"Steve, what in the _hell_ —" She stopped as she caught sight of Tony's broken reactor. Her face paled and she shook her head.

"Shit," she breathed. "Medbay. Now."

Steve followed her, tears in his eyes. Athena let him set Tony down as she looked up at him.

"Okay, soldier. I need you to not go to pieces on me for a minute. I'm going to go get the replacement; stay here and keep him stable. Pick out any of the shattered pieces; they might cause further damage. I'll be just another minute," she promised. Tony moaned.  
  
"Ugh, Athena...the password, it—it's Captain America, just hurry, please..." He told her, clinging to Steve and nuzzling into the arm that still held him tight. "Steve, Steve..."  
Steve wanted to break down, but he knew now wasn't the time; Tony needed him.

"I know, Tony, I'm here. I'm going to make it better. Ssh, Tony, ssh...I'm right here...ssh, ssh..." He murmured as Athena bolted for the replacement reactor. "You are so tough, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you; I know you can do this. Hold on for me, Tony. We're going to be just fine," he promised. "Tony? Please, god. Don't die. I can't lose you. You're...you're my future. My...my whole world."

"I know, babe. Me too," Tony murmured. "I can't leave you. I've waited too long...too long to be with you. I better get more than a couple of months out of it." He teased. Steve wanted to break down in tears.

"I know, my love. You'll have me forever now, though. You can't get rid of me that easily." He teased, as he picked the clear, glittering shards of the arc reactor from the broken rim. Tony winced with pain, and Steve leaned in closer, so that he could keep track of Tony's heartbeat as he cleaned away the debris.

He was almost finished when Athena burst back in, shoving the reactor in Steve's face. He reacted quickly, plucking out the last few pieces before promptly pulling out the reactor. His lover's face had gone deathly pale, and his skin was becoming cold...

"Oh, sweetheart, please hold on..." Steve whispered. Tony howled in agony, and Steve could hear his heartbeat going wild; as quickly as he could, he slipped in the other reactor, setting it in with a soft snick. Tony's whole body spasmed once before he fell still.

Steve stood over him, his hand shaking as he caressed the new reactor. His lips were moving, but no sound issued forth.

"...Captain, I'm going to sedate him now," Athena said. "He's been through a lot of stress; S.H.I.E.L.D.'s developed a few drugs to deal with the strain the reactor puts on his body after re-insertion. I can put them in through an IV, if you'll let me."

"Is that okay, Tony?" Steve whispered. "I'll stay with you. Let me go get you some pajamas, and once you're safe, I'll make sure you get to rest comfortably. Okay?"

"Yeah, it's...fine." Tony shivered. "God, it hurts though. Don't leave?"

"No, never. Just to get you something warm and safe. Athena will be with you until I come back." Steve said, his voice gentle. "Okay?"

"Okay," Tony agreed. "Love you."

"Love you too," Steve murmured as he set off. He looked away just as Athena sunk the syringe full of sedatives into Tony's vein.

...

Steve managed to make it back to their room and take out their battered suitcase of clothing, all of it packed neatly away, without so much as a whimper. He walked through the halls, looking at all of them, so understanding, so pitying, and didn't so much as twitch. He was entirely silent as he came into their room, Athena giving him a long, slow, considering look before ducking out and allowing the two of them to be alone.

Tony was asleep, breathing easily. Steve could hear the arc reactor whirring overtime, trying to keep him alive. The heart monitor pulsed erratically, beeping and humming in a way that sounded almost like breathing. Steve approached the bed, his fingers flexing.

He took off his lover's underarmor, slipping it off easily, so gentle and careful Tony didn't stir. The skin beneath that had been damaged by the blast from the ring and the short-circuiting reactor was raw and bloody. Steve took a washcloth and slowly, carefully rubbed a clean, warm cloth across Tony's chest, before bandaging all the wounds he could see with gauze.

After Tony's wounds were covered, Steve dressed him carefully, easily, with slow strokes across his skin, to reassure his hands that there was a lover beneath them, someone to take care of, someone he had saved.

Steve dressed him in his pajamas and tucked him in, very quietly, and sat beside him. He did not so much as move for almost an hour. He did not so much as speak, let alone cry.

Then, when the medication dispenser beeped, the IV empty, and Tony opened his eyes to look at him—his unfocused, drugged-up eyes bright, shining, and alive, Steve opened his mouth to tell him hello and burst into tears.

Tony just patted his arm weakly for a second as Steve buried his face into Tony's neck, sobbing with fright and relief and panic in equal measure, holding him close. Tony eventually roused himself enough to embrace Steve, holding him tight and close enough that Steve could feel the warm press of the arc reactor and reassure himself Tony was alive, that Tony was safe, that the wonderful, beautiful reactor had done it again, and that just set him off harder.

"It's okay, Steve," Tony rasped, "I'm not gonna die. I told you. I'm right here. Calm down, please. You're getting your tears all over these pajamas, and I happen to like them."

Steve laughed through his tears as he embraced Tony with shaking arms, pulling him close.

"No more," he whispered into Tony's neck, "no more, no more. We're going home. I don't _care_ what Fury says. We're going home, where you'll be _safe._ You need to recuperate. You could have _died_."

"I'm not Bucky, Steve," Tony said quietly. "I'm not going to die from the slightest injury!"

 _"The reactor was broken_ ," Steve snarled. "That was _not_ a slight injury. Your suit being a bit _dented_ would have been a slight injury. These people have technology we don't understand, and it _broke your reactor_. I had to watch him _hurt you_."

They were silent, looking at each other. Steve was breathing heavy, his hands shaking.

"I'm sorry," Tony said. "You're right." He smiled weakly. "It's okay, Steve. I won't...won't leave."

"Thank you, Tony. Hearing that...means a lot," Steve smiled and cradled him in his arms. Tony snuggled into his embrace, yielding and pliant as they contented each other in one anothers' presence.

"I won't leave either," Steve promised. "Just...don't do anything dangerous, okay?" He pleaded.

"I won't," Tony murmured as Athena bustled back in with medicine, "I promise. I love you."

"I love you too," Steve said. "I'm going to go call Phil, sweetheart. Do what Athena tells you."

He kissed Tony once, slow and sweet, and set him down gently, pulling the covers up around him. Athena just watched, an odd look in her eyes.

"Thank you, doctor Danvers. You've done so much for Tony," Steve murmured. "You're amazing. I just...figured you should know."

He embraced her for a second, and if he felt the years of longing all climaxing on that one moment, the sorrow and fierce joy she felt at her Captain's love, her Captain's embrace, he did not remark upon it. He allowed her a moment to feel him, to take in all that she had dreamed of and desired, before he left with a small smile to attend to other matters.

For a second, Athena stood there in the medbay, trembling. A few tears slipped free from her childhood, where all her love for him remained, and fell in recognition of her very adult, very current grief.

"Let's get you fixed up," she murmured. "You'll feel better soon."

Tony just nodded in silent agreement. He didn't remark upon her words. He knew better.

...

Steve went right for Tony's phone, slipping it in his pocket at an angle where he couldn't be seen doing so by any cameras he noticed. He paced about worriedly for a bit, so as to appear as if he was simply ducking outside to pace somewhere else to anyone who observed.

Steve got as far away as he could from the base before opening the phone.

"JARVIS, I need Phil _, now._ I don't care what he's doing, override it, any of it! It's an emergency!" Steve said. JARVIS whirred.

 _"Oh, Captain. I am aware,"_ he murmured. The AI sounded heartbroken. Steve sighed.

"I'm sorry, buddy. I didn't mean to snap. I'm...scared. I know he's your friend too. I know you love him. Help me, please. I feel like we're the only people who _can_ help him right now," Steve mumbled, fearful. JARVIS whirred.

 _"I think you are correct, Captain. Though I am sure the agent will disagree soon enough,"_ he promised, dialing him as Steve sighed with relief. The phone rang twice before the click of the other line picking up made him smile.

" _Tony? What happened? Are you okay? Is Steve?"_ Phil asked, his voice sharp and fearful. Steve sighed.

"No, Phil. It's Steve. I'm fine. Tony isn't," he swallowed. "The Mandarin attacked us. One of his power rings shattered the arc reactor."

Saying it out loud made Steve sob, harsh and guttural. He gripped the phone tight and shook his head.

"I have to bring him _home,_ Phil," he cried, "Tony's going to _die_ if I don't, they'll _kill him._ Phil, please...please, I lost Bucky, I lost my whole unit, I've lost _enough,_ please don't make me lose Tony, I _can't_! I'm not a good enough soldier!" He begged. "I'm not _good enough,_ Phil!"

 _"You are_ more _than good enough. You are my_ hero, _Captain,"_ Phil said fiercely. _"No one can fight S.H.I.E.L.D.; not even you, and for that, I'm sorry. I'll do everything I can to help; I swear, I'll get you both out of there. He won't die. Not as long as I'm taking care of the two of you."_

Steve wanted to weep with sheer relief. He just nodded; Phil didn't need any more emotional breakdowns from his hero.

"All right, Phil. Call me back as soon as you can. Just tell JARVIS to contact me no matter what's going on," he said.

"Okay, Captain. Stay safe, and keep him stable. We'll fix this," Phil promised before hanging up. Steve sighed with relief and put the phone away, heading back to base as fast as he could; the longer he could be with Tony, the better.


	110. Yet Another Xanatos Gambit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fury and Maria decide to make lemonade out of lemons or something along those lines. Pepper is a badass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy time for another long plan only don't worry it won't be as long this time!  
> sometimes I think I should take out a public apology for the length of this fic.  
> Anyways, enjoy!

Phil hung up the phone with shaking hands, looking around the kitchen table. Pepper smiled at him, curious and eager. 

"Steve checked in? Is everything okay? You seemed worried..." She trailed off, unease in her eyes. Phil swallowed. The whole table watched him, intent.

"The Mandarin...shattered Tony's reactor," he said. 

Pepper screamed before she could stop herself, clasping a hand over her mouth as tears poured down her face. Bruce immediately took her into his arms, stroking her hair as she keened. Phil shook his head.

"Pepper, he's alive. Steve got him out; he had a spare reactor with him. The boys are going to be just..." Phil inhaled sharply, in what was far too close to sob for his liking. "Just...fine."

 _"He's going to kill Tony_!" Pepper screamed at him, her entire body shaking as she stood up. " _He's going to kill my Tony_! Enough! _Enough_ , Phil! Get them out! _Get them out_!"

"I'm _trying_ , Pepper!" Phil retorted, running a hand through his hair. "There's _nothing I can do_ right now! I'm going to Fury to report the injury and we'll work it out from there! I promise, I'm going to do everything in my power to take care of them! You're an _agent,_ Pepper, and I need you to _work with me_."

She stared at him for a second, her eyes wild. Then she shoved herself away from the table and stormed upstairs; they could hear her flinging clothes about in her room. 

Five minutes later, she came down in a suit jacket, neatly pressed, and a prim skirt—the perfect agent. A set of keys glimmered in her hand.

 _"Get in the car,_ " she snarled, and Phil was certainly not going to disagree.

...

The tires squealed as Pepper pulled into the parking lot. Before she could get out, Phil put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Pepper, if you go in there and lose your cool, we're going to lose the chance of saving Tony. I need you to be calm," he said. Pepper looked at him, tears in her eyes.

"I'm going to lose Tony," she sobbed, broken. "Please, Phil, I _can't._..I can't lose him..."

"You're not going to, Pepper. I promise, we'll get him out. You'll be fine. Tony will be fine. No one is going to die," Phil promised. "Do you need a minute to cry?"

She nodded, pushing her face into his chest, sobbing in that high, hollow way he knew meant she wouldn't stop until she ran out of tears. He just held her, stroked her hair, and weathered the storm. For a few minutes, they just sat together in the car before Pepper finally lifted her head up and steeled herself.

"We have to go save him," she said, getting out of the car and heading inside. Phil followed after her, a little awed by the sudden shift. He shouldn't have been surprised, and he wasn't...but he was,in fact, more than a little impressed; and certainly, incredibly grateful. He needed her right now.

Pepper made her way to Fury's office, Phil standing beside her, and walked right in. Phil chalked that up to her outsider status; no other agent would do such a thing. He would have laughed was he not entirely consumed with worry at the moment.

Fury looked up at them, and Phil froze despite himself. He managed a small, thin smile; Pepper didn't even bother.

"Steve reported in," she said. "Tony's been injured. He almost _died_. Whatever tech the Mandarin has, it shattered his reactor. Tony was able to repair it with a spare, but he's still recuperating."

Fury regarded her with a single inscrutable eye. For a few minutes, he didn't speak.

Phil wanted to push her out of the room, keep her safe, keep her free of this place. She needed to get away from him, get out of S.H.I.E.L.D., and go home—someplace safe.

"The two of you, go work crisis management on your team. I'm sure they're not taking this news well," he said. "I've got a meeting with the Commander; if you would report back here when I call, that would be appreciated."

"Yes, sir," Phil said, inclining his head. Pepper looked furious enough to shoot him where he stood, but when Phil took her hand and led her out, she didn't protest. She followed after him, despite the anger in her eyes.

They both left, but not before Phil said gently, "Go get in the car. I'll be with you in a minute."

She looked confused, but nodded in agreement. Phil waited until she was gone to close his eyes.

_Laufeyson, we're on the verge of leaving. Tony has been injured. The Captain is not happy._

_Well, we can't have that,_ Loki drawled _. I take it you are going to handle this matter._

 _I am,_ Coulson agreed _. Are you well?_

 _Is he coming for me?_ Loki asked. _My Thor. Will he come soon?_

 _As soon as he can. It won't be much longer, Loki. I swear,_ Coulson said.

 _I know. I can feel it. Within your halls...something has begun to stir. You are part of this storm now, Son of Coul. We must both ride it out,_ he said, his tone grave.

 _I know, I know. I won't let any of them come to harm. You included. I'll be back soon,_ he promised.

A note of warmth and surprise at his words spread through Coulson like a slow burning candle. He just nodded, leaving the base and getting into the car beside Pepper, the two of them heading home to take care of the rest of their team.

...

Bruce was shaking as he bundled Pepper into his embrace, kissing her and gentling her, soothing hands running up and down her back as he held her close. Coulson inched past the two of them before promptly getting confronted with both Clint and Natasha in his arms, shivering in his embrace. Thor stood at the threshold, hesitant. Both Pepper and Coulson held their arms open for him.

"C'mere, big guy," Coulson said, his voice gentle as he hugged everyone tight. "We're going to go sit down on the couch together, okay?"

"Okay, yeah, we're _okay,_ " Clint murmured. "And I guess _Tony's_ okay, too?" He shook his head, frustrated. "Phil, I can't _take this_ anymore!"

"I know, Clint. Darling, hush. We'll be all right—all of us. Come on, come on..." Phil soothed him, his voice gentle. He and Pepper carefully shepherded all of their charges into the living room, settling them in on the couch and tucking them in. 

Pepper went to get blankets as Coulson bustled into the kitchen to prepare hot chocolate and some snacks. Everyone was badly shaken, and he knew to take a page out of his grandmother's book when it came to this kind of stress; food, and lots of it.

When Coulson came back in, Pepper was already tucking blankets around all of them, sighing heavily as she snuggled in between Bruce and Thor. Both men held her close, reminding her that things would be just fine as long as she had their support. Coulson kissed the top of both of his lovers' heads, holding their hands gently as he proferred his tray of food and cocoa. 

Everyone took mugs full of cocoa and bites of snacks—chocolate, granola, cookies, and in Thor's case, an entire box of pop-tarts. Coulson smiled, pleased, and kissed Clint and Natasha's forehead, the three of them sharing a big, warm mug of cocoa. 

"Tony will be just fine," he murmured. "Thor..." He swallowed. "Thor, your brother...I spoke with your brother. Dreaming, I mean. He..." Coulson sighed. "How do I put this..."

Thor watched, intently gazing at Coulson as he tried to figure out how to best put the words together.

"I told him we were leaving soon. That Steve was starting to break, and we were going to get out of here, one way or another. I said that you were coming for him. That you would find him." Coulson said. "I'd like to think I didn't lie to the god of lies and mischief?"

Thor was quiet for a few minutes, before a slow, small smile spread across his lips.

"No," he said. "No, you did not."

Coulson smiled, pleased. All of them settled in, quiet and considering.

"Where do we go, then?" Clint asked. "When we run."

"Asgard will hail you all as heroes," Thor responded. "My mother would love you, in fact."

"I'm not sure that's a permanent solution, Thor. Some time up on Asgard would be wise, but in truth, we need to be able to remain on Midgard, free from harm. Our lives are here, Thor." Coulson said. Thor sighed.

"Yes, I know. You shall have my hammer, and once we free him, my brother's magic. Two gods? S.H.I.E.L.D. will not harm you. We simply need to free my brother and convince them that harming the Avengers is not, in fact, in their best interests." Thor said, his voice harsh. Coulson nodded.

"We will. For now, though, I want to focus on Tony, and getting those two out of Afghanistan. I'm going to call them—you all settle down and turn on a movie. I'll be back in soon." Coulson promised. He kissed both his lovers quickly, his hands cupping their cheeks, before getting up and taking out his phone.

"JARVIS?" He said, as he made his way downstairs and into Tony's lab, sitting quietly in the midst of the wiring and machines, "I need you. Tony needs you. To be honest, I think we all need you."

 _"And so I am here, agent,"_ JARVIS responded. _"Shall I call Tony?"_

"Yes, definitely," Coulson said. "If he doesn't pick up—I mean, if he's still sedated—try Steve, please."

 _"Certainly, Coulson. Hold on one moment,"_ JARVIS said. Phil sighed and settled in to wait as the phone rang. He could only hope one of them picked up...

...

Steve stroked Tony's hair with gentle care, closing his eyes to block out the pain and fear that coursed through him as he looked at Tony. A clear fluid pumped through the IV, feeding his lover the drugs that would soothe him and keep the new arc reactor from going into overdrive. Steve knew that not even his words would be enough to calm Tony's panic attacks, to soothe his hurts and gentle away his traumas. If whatever S.H.I.E.L.D. had kept Tony feeling like he was safe, then Steve wouldn't protest.

Before he could really crystallize his thoughts, the phone rang.

 _"Sir, it's Coulson. It's an emergency,_ " JARVIS' voice enamated from the phone. Steve nodded, going to pick it up with a trembling hand. 

"Hello, Phil," he murmured. "Tony's sleeping. He's safe. He's sleeping, he's safe, I...I'm going to protect him." Steve swallowed. "Phil, Tony's going to die. I don't know what to do."

 _"No he isn't. Don't say that, Captain; it won't help. Listen to me. Keep an eye on him, and don't let anyone but Athena give him anything. We don't know what the hell they'll drug_ _him with. I've got a meeting with Fury tonight. I'll do my best to at least get Tony out of here, though he won't like that,_ " Phil said. Steve shook his head.

"Oh, no he won't. But I'd like to stay for a little longer. Long enough to deal with the Mandarin," he said, keeping his voice pleasant. Phil was quiet.

 _"...Steve, what happened to the Mandarin?_ " He asked. Steve shrugged.

"I don't remember. He almost killed my Tony. It doesn't matter," Steve swallowed and ran a hand through his hair. "You were wrong, Phil, and so was I. This isn't a game. This is a  _war._ And _no more soldiers_ are going to die under my watch." Steve choked back a sob. 

"And not another friend, either. Not again. Not while I'm awake," he whispered, too quiet for Phil to hear.

Steve grit his teeth and stood firm despite that. Tony needed him. And he had a shield.

 _"...Okay, Steve. Don't do anything until we figure out what's going on. Please. I know it's hard. But staying quiet will keep Tony safe. Keeping Tony safe is the name of the game, Steve. Don't do anything risky_ ," Phil demanded. Steve nodded.

"I know. I know, Phil. I've fought plenty of battles in my day. Fury won't get near Tony. No one will. No one will ever hurt Tony, ever again," Steve swore.

 _"...All right, Captain. Be careful. We'll see you both soon,_ " Phil promised, hanging up.

Steve held the phone for a second.

 _"Sir, I have erased this conversation from the security tapes. I thought it wise,_ " JARVIS piped up. Steve smiled.

"Yes, I think so," he said. "You don't want anyone to hurt our Tony, do you?"

 _"No, sir. But I do advise you to be cautious. You are angry, Steven, and deservedly so. But this is neither safe nor helpful,"_ JARVIS reminded him. Steve sighed.

"Yes, JARV. I know. I'll keep him safe," he promised. "Can you watch over him for a little while, though? Don't let anyone but Athena in. I need to go calm down. Shower or something."

 _"Of course, Captain. Stay safe. Do not harm yourself, either. Turning your anger inward is a poison,"_ JARVIS reminded him. Steve huffed.

"Yes, I know. I promise, I'll be fine. Tony needs me, JARVIS. Deserting him now would be cruel," Steve said. JARVIS whirred.

 _"Of course, Captain. I don't doubt that. I will see you shortly,"_ JARVIS replied. Steve smiled and nodded, leaving as quietly as he had come, shutting the door behind him, more than content with the knowledge that JARVIS was watching over his Tony.

...

Phil kissed both of his lovers goodbye, holding their hands for the briefest of instants, long enough to contemplate how dangerous this might end up being. Then he remembered Tony, in pain and broken, and Steve, furious and searching for a way out. He had to do this. He knew that.

Pepper got in the car beside him as he started it up, driving carefully and quietly through the streets. Phil didn't even put music on—he needed to think. Pepper let him have his space, deep in thought herself.

The two of them contemplated what might, if anything, happen after leaving. Where would they go? And what would they do? Could they really get S.H.I.E.L.D. to back off?

There was only hope. Neither of them had any concrete plans or ideas, even though they thought long and hard as they arrived at base and made their way to Fury's office. All they had was hope, and the desire for freedom. It would have to be enough. Right now, they had no other options.

Phil swallowed as he put his hand on the door. He would go in. He would fight, as best as he could, and he would fight hard. He couldn't even imagine what might happen if hope wasn't enough.

...

Nick let Maria sit beside him, deep in thought. He allowed her the peace to think; in the end, a large plan of his plan was owed to his greatest agent, and he awaited her input.

For a long time, she simply sat there; the two of them were like stone, the only thing about them remaining alive and animate being their eyes.

"We can't let them die, sir," Maria said. "That wasn't meant to be part of the plan." 

"I know, Hill," Fury agreed. "Plus, I feel like if we don't bring them back, I might make an enemy of the Captain. That is, quite frankly, the last thing I'd like to do. I never wanted them as enemies, Hill. I just wanted them to _listen_. I hardly think that's too much of an unreasonable goal for a top secret government organization," he said, his voice dry. 

"I know, sir, and it was an admirable goal. For now though, I believe bringing them back is in our best interests. Plus, if we play off Tony's insecurities enough, we might get him to accept the mission again—solo and willingly." She said. Fury raised an eyebrow.

"Tell me how we'd do that, then, Commander," he said. "I take it you've got an idea."

"Just...drive a wedge between them. Steve fusses. Make him seem overbearing, nagging, overprotective; remember the incident with the snake? Tony lost his mind later on when he thought Steve was patronizing him. If we can manipulate an incident that way...we might get him back there on his own," Maria told him.

"...Clever," Nick murmured. "Clever, clever woman. I know just how to make it happen. We'll bring them home and get this in motion."

"All right, sir. Is there anything I can do?" She asked. Fury shook his head.

"All I need from you right now is to disappear. They already suspect you have some part in this; if you're with me while I get this plan in motion, it won't help," he said. Maria nodded, leaving the room just in time to catch Pepper and Phil heading down the hallway.

The two of them stood at the door. Pepper took Phil's free hand for just a second; a quiet reminder that he was not in fact alone. Phil squeezed back, taking in the feel of her, silently comforting himself with her soft touch.

They were quiet as they entered the office, standing in front of Nick's desk. Neither of them so much as twitched.

"Bring them home," Fury said, and Phil's heart skipped a beat.

"...Sir?" He said after a moment's pause. Fury chuckled.

"Tony's suffered injuries far too severe to sustain combat. Recall them, and we'll figure out how to use their talents on this mission at a later date," he said. "I advise you contact Athena first."

"...Yes, sir," Phil said. "I'll let them know immediately."

"Of course you will, agent, you're the model of efficiency. Dismissed," Fury said, waving them both out. He waited until they were gone to chuckle, amused, as he took out his phone.

"It worked, Hill," he told her. "Go home. There's nothing more to be done for the day, and you definitely deserve the break."

 _"Yes, sir,_ " she replied, hanging up without another word. Fury smiled, before taking out Tony's dossier and beginning to make small, sharp notes in the margins of his ledger.

...

Pepper waited until they got to the car to scream with delight and hug Phil tight enough to make his ribs creak in protest. Phil smiled and held her close, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

Tony was _safe_. That was all that mattered right now. Tony was safe, and Tony was _alive_. Nothing else mattered. 

Evidently, however, there were a few people who did not adhere to this claim.

 _Son of Coul? I heard the news. This is...most unsettling._ Loki's voice resounded in Phil's head and he sighed, rubbing his temples. He started up the car and let Pepper compose herself as he settled in and opened his mind so Loki could gain easier access.

 _I felt Fury's triumph. This may not be the best avenue for Anthony's return. He is focused on other things; falling even a step behind him in his plans may prove fatal,_ Loki told him. 

_I know, Loki. But Tony's home. That's all that matters right now. Let me just get Tony home, and we'll work it out from there. If all goes well and I can convince Steve correctly, we might have you out by next week,_  Phil responded.

 _...If you think this wise, Son of Coul. You know the beast better than I. But I would advise you to remain vigilant. Thor will be his next target, surely,_  Loki said. 

Phil filed away for later how easily Loki could be counted on to remain honest and helpful when it came to Thor and nodded.

 _Of course, Loki. We'll be back soon. Stay safe,_  he said, pulling out of the garage and heading home, the feeling of Loki's uneasiness growing fainter and fainter in his mind. Even when the link was fully gone, however, the icy sensation remained, muddling his thoughts.

...

Bruce was at the door when they opened it, and his worrry for Pepper was written into every line on his face. He took her into his arms without so much as a word, holding her steady against his chest. Coulson slipped past them quietly, allowing them a moment as he went to break the news to the team.

Pepper gave Bruce a slow, lingering kiss; the taste of him stuck to every curve of her lip, filling up the swells and cascading through the swoons. He was like cinnamon and fire; to kiss him was to feel like she was burning from her head to her toes, and when she wrapped her arms around his waist, she was on fire. He held her closer and shared the flames, the heat making them both sweat as he pulled away long enough to nuzzle her neck, planting a glowing kiss on her shoulder.

"He's safe," she whispered. "He's safe, I'm safe. It's all right. It's going to be all right."

Bruce smiled, relieved, and stroked her hair. Every touch sent sparks trailing down her spine, like a bridal train. She took his hand and kissed it.

"I'm glad," Bruce said, his voice warm. "I want him back, too. It'll be all right, Pep. Why don't we go get something to eat? It's been a bit hectic around here all day." He said. Pepper nodded in agreement, letting him take her by the hand and back into the kitchen.

Before they entered, however, Coulson stood before his team and thought of the best way to say that Tony was alive and coming home with Steve without inciting some kind of delighted riot.

"He's coming home," he finally decided to tell them—simple and straightforward. "Steve is, too. No, I don't know why. I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, I know that much. So...they'll be safe. We'll take care of them here. It'll be fine." Phil promised.

Everyone beamed, delighted. Thor actually embraced him before calling for JARVIS to prepare celebrations. Clint and Natasha had a moment of genuine relief and happiness before they looked up at Phil; he sighed and shrugged, motioning that they would talk about it later.

Bruce and Pepper joined them shortly thereafter, and everyone looked at Pepper. Phi smiled and offered her his phone.

"You call Tony," Phil said, his voice gentle. "You deserve to be the one to get him out of Afghanistan this time."

Pepper pursed her lips and steeled herself, her eyes suddenly getting rather bright. Bruce went to get some tissues in anticipation for the floodgates that would open as soon as she hung up.


	111. Someday The End To This Fic Will Come Find Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is much more wounded than he lets on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She was supposed to be a side character, and in a way, she is; but she's become so much more than that, and I love her for it. Athena Danvers is a badass. A tragic badass who still gets the job done.  
> For whatever reason, I write Pepper with a filthy mouth sometimes, lol. I feel like Tony actually doesn't usually curse heavily; that's like her department or whatever, and he just laughs or goes along with it when they talk. I figure it's because she puts up with him so much, haha.

Tony opened his eyes and bit back a groan of pain. His entire chest felt like someone had taken claws and ripped apart everything beneath his skin, leaving him a mass of torn muscle and shredded bone. Even breathing caused him agony, sending shuddering jolts of tension through his lungs.

Before he could think too much of the pain, the phone rang. Tony looked around; no sign of Steve or Athena. Maybe...

"JARVIS, could you get that for me, buddy? Put it on speaker," Tony said, his voice sharp and oddly light with pain. JARVIS whirred.

 _"Of course, Anthony,"_ he replied. Tony heard the phone click, and he leaned back against the enormous mound of pillows in his bed, (all of them probably supplied by Steve.)

"Hello?" He called. "I'm a little bit in extreme agony at the moment, so this better be important."

" _Time to come home, Tony_ ," Pepper's voice sent a warm jolt through his body that, just for a moment, blocked out the pain. Tony blinked, shocked.

"...What?" He rasped, his voice suddenly hoarse. Pepper laughed, a bubbly, delighted giggle of bliss. He could picture the delight on her face perfectly.

 _"Fury gave the order. You and Steve are to return home immediately, with Athena still overseeing your medical care, rather than the mission,"_ she said.

Tony stared at his phone for a second. Then, suddenly, relief like he had never known rose up inside him; it was like a cleansing wave that stripped away all his fear and trauma.

"...Okay, Pep. I promise I'll be home soon. You can yell at me all you want for being reckless then," he murmured. Pepper sighed, but he could practically hear her smile.

 _"Oh, no. I'll let Steve do that later. For now, I just want you home. I've got work for you to do. Piles and piles of paperwork,_ " she teased.

"Bitch," Tony said, but he was laughing, and so was she, and Steve happened to walk in just then, to the sight of Tony content and at ease, relieved at his inevitable homecoming.

He took in the feeling of his lover's delight for just a second before coming closer, taking his hand.

"Tony, sweetheart, are you okay? You should be resting," he chastised him. Tony grinned from ear to ear.

"I can rest when we get home, babe," he said.

Steve stared, shock and relief and confusion welling up in him in equal measure. Tony grinned.

"Tell him, Pep," he said. "I think he ought to know."

Steve took the phone from Tony, his hands shaking. He pressed it against his ear, listening quietly.

 _"Fury's orders, Steve. You two are out on the next jet home with Athena. Get him bundled up safe, okay?_ " Pepper said, her voice quivering with excitement.

Steve just sat on the edge of the bed for a second, uncomprehending. Then, as it hit him all at once, his face split into an enormous grin.

"Of course, Pepper," he replied. "Anything for Tony."

He hung up and looked at Tony, whose eyes shone with pure and utter delight, and broke. Steve groaned with delight, the utter depth of his emotion making his voice too low for a real shout, and took Tony into his arms gently and with great attention paid towards the reactor, along with the rest of his lover's battered chest.

"I'm going to go pack our things," he murmured. "I'll tell Athena, okay? I promise, Tony, tonight we'll lie in bed together, and you'll be safe and sound. We're almost home. Rest now, okay? It'll make the journey faster."

"Sure, sure..." Tony mumbled, trailing off into sleep even as he spoke. Steve smiled, helpless to resist the sight. He cupped Tony's cheek gently in a single strong hand for just a second, taking him in.

Then he kissed his forehead and left, hope making his heart light enough to make even the dreary halls of the base feel promising and open.

...

Athena was interrupted in her note-taking on the arc reactor by a beaming Steve. For a second, she just took in his delighted smile. She knew it wasn't for her, but it was still the greatest sight she could envision.

"Tony and I are going home," Steve said, beaming, "and you're coming with us to oversee his care."

Athena put her pen down, shocked. Steve blinked.

"Is something wrong, doctor?" He asked. "You don't look happy."

"Fury never sends agents home," she said, her voice short. Something in it made Steve shudder. "Not unless they're dead. And you made sure he wasn't."

She lit a cigarette and sighed.She did not think of the others. She did not think of the missions she had overseen. She did not think of Clint and Natasha, coming home. Or the thousands of others she had overseen who hadn't.

"Something's up, Steve. Please be careful. I'll...I'll make sure he's safe. But I can only do that as a doctor. You can do it as a partner. As someone more."

The words got stuck in her throat, and it hurt more than any pain she had ever known to drag them out, but for Steve...for Steve, anything.

"I'll watch over him, I promise," Steve said, his voice warm. "Athena, you've done so much. I really am so grateful. I'll do whatever I can to help you in return, should you need it." He smiled and left, otensibly to pack their things.

Athena just watched him leave, quiet and contemplative.

With a long, weary sigh, she took a drag on her cigarette and prepared to leave.

...

Tony was awoken as Steve bundled him up into blankets, careful and attentive. He smiled, pleased, and gave Tony a quick kiss.

"We're going to get you onto the plane. Athena got a cot for you to lie on for the time being; she says you're not supposed to move much. Not that I blame her. I'm definitely tucking you in when we get home. We'll watch some movies, eat some ice cream, order a pizza, maybe, and just stay in bed and cuddle for as long as we need to." Steve promised. Tony was so lost in what Steve was telling him that he didn't even notice Steve wheeling him down the hallway and towards the hangar. Tony sighed, content, and closed his eyes so as to imagine it better.

Athena helped Steve get him on the plane; the bed took up a huge chunk of the back, but Steve looked uneasy about moving. Athena sighed.

"Just don't jostle him and sit down right, and you'll be fine. So long as you're okay with cramped spaces." She said. Steve smiled.

"For him, I'll be more than all right." Steve whispered, stroking Tony's hair. His love was spilling out without restraint now, the relief at their safe return home removing all his inhibitions and decorum.

Athena just sighed and started the jet as Steve climbed into the back to sit beside Tony until they returned home.

After a few hours in which Steve simply stroked Tony's hair and soothed him through his fitful, drug-induced sleep, Athena finally sighed and rifled through her bag.

"Captain, we've got another eight hours on the plane. C'mere up front and take some sleeping pills. There's more room for you to rest here," she said. Steve grit his teeth.

"If I fall asleep, I want it to be beside Tony," he said, his voice firm. Athena glared at him.

"Well, _tough,_ Captain, because there's no room back there for you to lie down! If you lay next to him you'll jostle the reactor, and in the state he's in, you'll either aggravate his chest wounds further or outright _kill him_! Is _that_ what you want? Because of an _idiotic romantic gesture_ , you're perfectly willing to risk his _life!_ Aren't you _better than that?!"_

Steve stared at her. Athena had tears in her eyes.

"...Okay, Athena. I'll be up there in a second," he said, his voice soft.

He gave Tony one last tender kiss and stroked his hair before making his way into the cockpit. Athena didn't look at him. Steve accepted the pill bottles from her without meeting her eyes.

Before he swallowed them, though, he asked her quietly, "Do you believe I'm better than that, doctor?"

"I always have," Athena responded, still not looking at him. "Give me a reason."

Steve looked at the pills carefully. On one hand, he would rest, and wake up in time to be home with Tony, safe and sound. On the other hand, there was a woman beside him who would be alone if he did this. A woman who had always believed in him.

He put the pills aside and gave her a small smile as he settled into the seat, putting his shield on his lap.

"Did you ever get to read about the time I had to stop a HYDRA attack on one of my old USO shows?" He asked. "Peggy had to dress up as one of the ladies. It was really fetching until she kicked me."

Athena paused for a second. Then, very softly, she began to laugh.

"No, Steve. I didn't know. But I'm willing to listen," she murmured.

Steve smiled, paused to think, and then, without missing a beat, launched into the story.

As Athena listened to him talk for the rest of the plane ride, she thought maybe, as he looked at her like a friend, a person...he had finally given her the best reason to believe.

For just a second, she touched his hand.

He was alive beneath her—no longer a dream. She decided she liked it better that way, flaws and all.

...

Steve bade Athena a quiet goodbye after the two of them wheeled Tony off the jet. She would be back shortly to set up his bedroom to function as a hospital for a few weeks, but she had to get supplies first. That left Steve more than enough time to tuck his darling in and explain to the others about what had transpired.

"JARVIS, please don't announce us. I'm going to get Tony in bed and then we'll talk. Okay?" Steve said. JARVIS whirred.

 _"Perfectly understandable, Captain. I will see to it that you are not bothered_ ," JARVIS promised. Steve smiled.

"Thanks, JARVIS. I'll meet with them soon," Steve promised, bringing Tony inside. He frowned, looking at the elevator; no way it would fit him and Tony in the bed...

 _"Captain, if you carry him, it should not irritate the reactor. There might be some minor pressure upon the chest wounds, but nothing fatal. I assure you, my Anthony is not made of glass,"_ JARVIS promised. Steve frowned.  
  
"Still. What could I do better...oh!" He took out Tony's briefcase, opening it up. "Uh...armor, assemble?"  
With a bit of help from Steve, the armor completely covered Tony, stabilizing his body and preventing sudden, sharp movement. Steve smiled, relieved, and picked Tony up, carrying him as carefully as he could. The suit was heavy, but he was strong. He would carry any weight for Tony. The world itself on his shoulders would be nothing if was for Tony.

Steve brought him down into his bedroom quietly, and with utmost care. Tony didn't so much as stir when Steve laid him down, murmuring, "Captain America."

The armor fell away, and Steve put it in the spare suit case by the bed. For a few minutes, he just stood over Tony's battered, bruised, bloodied body—his chest torn up and the area around the reactor pulped and mangled.

Rage made his hands shake and his vision flash red. Steve grit his teeth and shook his head. He took Tony's hand—warm. It was warm. Tony was alive and safe. All was well.  
Bit by bit, the feel of Tony soothed Steve's anger. With a soft sigh, he knelt down and planted a gentle kiss to the tip of Tony's nose before leaving the room as quietly as he could, so as not to rouse his lover.

...

Coulson had been anticipating Steve's return, but not the kind of greeting he received.

As he went upstairs to fetch Clint and Natasha for dinner, he walked down the hall, oblivious to anything but the thoughts of dinner and his darlings and worries over his team.

He didn't notice Steve until the Captain embraced him, taking him into his arms and hugging him tight. Phil squeaked, surprised; then a warm relief filled him and he smiled.

"Good to see you too," he murmured. "Is Tony safe?"

"Phil, you _saved us_ ," Steve whispered, in an awed, admiring tone that, coming from his hero, made Phil shudder with pleasure. "You got him out. You saved Tony. You saved us. "Thank you. I...I can't thank you enough."

"Wasn't just me. Pep, too," Coulson demurred, smiling shyly at his hero's praise. "But...thanks, Steve. You're on my team. Of course you're worth saving."

Steve smiled even wider. Phil let himself have a moment of sheer delight that Captain America was proud of him before he murmured, worried, "So...Tony..."

"Tony's resting. He's..." Steve sighed. "He's more than a bit beat up, Phil. Especially his chest. I don't even know where to begin analyzing the tech, but Tony's suit might've gotten some readings to help us. It was really the reactor...the broken reactor, and then it took us time to get back—I thought he was going to _die_ , Phil..."

"No, never. Not with you around," Coulson promised. "Look, let's go get Clint and Natasha, and then we'll all have dinner, okay? You can explain everything then, and we'll all bring some food up to Tony, if he's ready to eat. I'm sure everyone wants to see him."

"Good idea," Steve agreed, though he looked eager to bolt back to Tony's side. "Lead the way, Phil."

...

To Clint and Natasha's credit, they simply embraced the Captain, smiling with helpless delight. They did not pry, and for that, Steve could have kissed them.

The four of them walked downstairs, sitting down at the kitchen table casually, as if nothing were amiss.

Pepper was the first to scream, throwing herself at Steve and embracing him tight enough to make him groan, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her forehead. She just grinned, helpless with delight.

"He's upstairs, safe," Steve promised. "Thank you. You helped us get out. I owe you one."

"Shut the hell _up_ , you do not," Pepper snapped. "You saved Tony. That's all I care about."

Steve beamed and hugged her, stroking her hair before settling her into Bruce's lap, still smiling.

"Good to see you again, doctor," he said. "You made sure..."

"Pepper was fine, yes," Bruce interrupted. "I mean, uhm..."

"Don't worry. That's what I meant to ask," Steve smiled, amused. "And you?"

"We're all fine, Steve. We were, uh...well, worried about you." Bruce said quietly. "I mean...were you okay? I know that, well, Tony...and you..." He trailed off. "I know a lot about losing control in anger, Captain."

"No, I...I'm fine. I..." Steve sighed. "I didn't kill the Mandarin. If we meet again, though, I will. His technology almost killed Tony. I'll be fine, but...Tony..." Steve buried his hands in his hair.

"He needs to recuperate," he finally said. "Then we'll analyze the tech in the rings and figure out how to defeat him, perhaps. But Tony will not fight him again. Not with the reactor at risk."

"Understood," Phil said. "We'll all go next time. I won't let him split up the team. I'll go with you, and Pepper will stay with Tony. I promise."

Steve cracked a small smile. Phil sat beside him, sipping his coffee. For a second, Steve just let himself breathe, calming himself for a minute or two.

"Athena will be back shortly. Let her in, please? I'm going to see to Tony," Steve paused. "I...I'd like it if you all came up after breakfast tomorrow. Just let me take care of him now, please?"

"Of course, Captain," Phil acquiesced. Steve smiled thinly and left, making his way up the steps and slipping away without a word.

The whole team watched him leave, and for a second, they allowed themelves to worry, just a little. Then Phil sighed and brought them back to business.

"I'll go file the paperwork for your return; I shouldn't be any later than lunch. Pepper, wait for Athena and make sure the lab's up and running; she might need some of the tech down there." He said.

"No problem, Phil. Bruce, will you come with me?" Pepper asked. Bruce nodded eagerly, following after her with her hand entwined with his. Clint, Natasha, and Thor looked up at Coulson, curious and eager.

"Clint, Natasha, I want you to go into the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s files and look for anything you can find on the Mandarin and his tech. Thor, go with Steve. He needs someone to..." Phil trailed off.

"Stand vigil," Thor said, shaking his head in sorrow. "Yes, he does. I will not let him know of my presence. But I will stand guard."

"Thank you, Thor," Phil murmured, grasping his shoulder. "I'll be back as soon as I can. All of you, take care."

He left after kissing Clint and Natasha, quiet and contemplative. With a heavy sigh, Thor left the kitchen as Clint and Natasha took out a laptop, accessing JARVIS and starting a scan through S.H.I.E.L.D.'s files.

They all held their breath, even without realizing it, as they waited for Steve.

...

Steve went upstairs and into Tony's room without so much as a sound. The only thing that betrayed him was his breathing until he sat down beside his lover on the bed. The mattress gave off a soft groan, the blankets shifting and whispering across silk sheets as Steve laid down beside Tony.

"You're alive," he murmured. "Alive and safe. I should be happy. But...I'm still so scared." Steve kissed his forehead. "I'm sorry, Tony. I won't say it when you're awake. You need me to be there for you, and I will. I always will. But...right now, I can say it." He swallowed.

"I'm so scared, Tony," he confessed. "I need you to live. I love you, and I've already lost so much. I know that's a heavy burden to bear—being all I have left, I mean. But I promise, I'll never say this to you out loud. Not when you can hear me. You've got enough weight on your shoulders."

Steve held him close, stroking a single gentle finger across the reactor as it glowed softly underneath his touch, as if in recognition.

"I won't be scared when you're awake," he promised. "When you wake up, I'll be here to hold you and kiss you, and love you as much as you need. But...right now, I..."

Steve grasped his lover's hand and shook his head, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

"Think of this like a dream, okay?" He whispered. "When you wake up, it'll be like it never happened. For the both of us."

Tony didn't stir.

Steve held him close, taking care not to touch his wounds. He closed his eyes and contented himself with the feel of Tony's body against his—powerful and firm, so strong despite all the beatings it had taken, all the weight it had to bear. Even the armor dragged him down sometimes, Steve figured.

He supported Tony on his lap—gently, in a way that meant Tony wouldn't need to hold himself up. Steve could do it for him, just for awhile. It was the least Tony deserved, and the weight of Tony's body entwined in his, safe and sound and warm, was the most Steve could ever ask for.

For awhile, they just laid there together. Steve allowed himself to be lulled into a calm trance by Tony's breathing, good enough to remain there without worrying over his well-being for another hour or so.

Then Tony stirred, and Steve grasped him tight, looking into his eyes and smiling helplessly at the light that still remained in them. His darling was alive. After all this, Tony was alive, and that took precendence over everything else.

"Hey, you," Tony said, his sleepy, warm tone making Steve's heart shiver and soar. "Always good to see you in the mornings."

"I think it's dinnertime, but all right," Steve agreed, amused. He stroked Tony's hair and kissed him. "I'm so glad you're okay. Are you hungry?"

"A bit," Tony said. "Gimme a few minutes to wake up first." He frowned. "D'ya think I should have coffee? Heart and all."

"I don't see why not," Steve said. "Athena should be here, though—I'll go downstairs and ask her, and we'll put some food together for you. Is that all right? I'll have to leave you alone..."

"Well yeah. It's not for long," Tony agreed. "See you in a bit, soldier."

Steve smiled and kissed his cheek before going downstairs to find Athena.


	112. Diagnosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gets patched up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry! I completely got sidetracked this week, my apologies. Hope you enjoy. There'll be another timeskip next chapter~!

Athena sat at the kitchen table beside Coulson, quiet. They both knew what was up, but neither of them dared discuss it. And when Steve walked downstairs, their brave hero, the idol of their lives...neither of them wanted to so much as voice it aloud.

"Tony's upstairs," Steve said. "He's hungry, though. Can we make him food?"

"Sure. I think we can come up with a few things for him to eat." Athena agreed. "And you, Captain?"

"Well, I'm hungry, but Tony matters more, so I'll—" Steve was cut off as Phil stood up.

"I'll go pick up some pizza. Athena, you rifle through the kitchen; JARVIS will help you. Don't you dare start neglecting meals, Captain." Coulson snapped. Steve held his hands up in surrender.

"All right, Phil. Be safe. We'll get something together for Tony, I promise." Steve murmured. Phil sighed and nodded before heading out to get Steve food.

Athena made her way around the kitchen, rifling through cabinets. She frowned, starting to pull things out carefully and set them down on the counter.

 _"Madam, if I might suggest the blueberries in the upper left corner? Anthony is partial to them,"_ JARVIS said. Athena raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, hello. You must be JARVIS. And blueberries should be fine. No caffeine, though. I don't want to tax the reactor," she said. Steve chuckled.

"Tony won't be happy," he murmured. "Though I'll feel better knowing he's safe."

"Yeah, he'll be alive; grumpy, but alive. I need you to check his heartbeat when we go upstairs, too. If it's returning to normal, he can have coffee tomorrow morning. Better safe than sorry." She said, rifling through the fridge for fruits and vegetables. Steve watched her work, curious, as he put what she had out on plates.

Athena poured him a glass of water, setting it on the plate Steve had made. With a soft sigh, she picked up her medical bag.

"Anything else you think he'll eat, JARVIS?" She asked.

 _"Nothing that isn't laden with caffeine or sugar. Anthony is partial to such things,"_ JARVIS said. Athena snorted.

"Typical. He'll have to deal with it for today. C'mon, Steve; let's go see what he's up to." She said. Steve nodded, following after her as they both went upstairs and towards Tony's room.

Steve went in first, a small smile on his face as he entered and set the tray down in front of Tony. His lover observed it for a second before groaning, looking up at Steve with a pitiful expression.

"No coffee, huh?" He said. Steve chuckled.

"No, sweetheart. You'll have plenty of time for coffee later. You've got to recuperate in peace, and that'll take time, won't it?" He asked Athena. She nodded.

"At a first glance, yes. I'm going to run a complete physical on him before he eats, which should give me an exact timeframe. Whether or not Fury adheres to it, however, is another story." Athena muttered. Steve grit his teeth, but nodded in agreement.

"All right, Athena. Do what you have to do. We'll eat together in a few minutes, Tony." Steve said gently. He settled in beside his lover on the bed, taking his hand and kissing his cheek. "I won't leave you to take your physical alone, okay?"

"Thanks, Steve. That means a lot." Tony murmured, nuzzling into his neck. Athena just watched, her expression a carefully crafted sort of neutral that betrayed the turmoil within.

"Tony, you're going to have to lie back and hold still. Cuddling can come later, when I've made sure you're not going to drop dead overnight." She said, her voice a lot sharper than it should've been. She couldn't make herself care much.

Steve fell silent, allowing Athena to go over Tony carefully, examining the injuries he had acquired. Most of them were on his chest, spreading out in a web from the reactor; cuts from the broken case, burns from the blast of electricity, and bruising from the sheer force applied. Athena daubed burn ointments over the battered skin, stitched up the more serious wounds after probing them for shards of the reactor's casing, and finally wrapped him up in bandages.

"Captain, count the beats for me, won't you?" She said, flipping open to her section of notes specifically on Tony, going over his average beats per minute. Steve nodded, leaning down and putting his head close to Tony's chest—not right on top of it, fearful of hurting him.

Athena sighed and pursed her lips as she watched Steve mouth the beats under his breath, going slowly and carefully so as not to skip one. She knew it shouldn't bother her, but the tenderness, the gentle love, was the sort of softness that stayed in her skin like an itch; too soft to harm but firm enough that she couldn't quite stop feeling it. It crawled under her skin and made her shiver to the core.

"He's at his average, Athena," Steve said. "Tony, honey, does your chest hurt?"

"Bit," Tony murmured, eyes half-shut. "Just a bit, though. I think it's the burns."

Steve smiled and stroked his hair, toying with the soft strands as he sat down on the bed beside Tony. His fingers hovered over the glowing circle in Tony's chest as he frowned.

"And the reactor, beautiful?" He murmured. Tony snorted, amused.

"Cute. It's fine, though. I could probably use a new core though, but I'll wait a day; better not to risk any more aggravation to the wounds, right?" Tony replied. Steve smiled, nuzzling him and taking his hands, squeezing gently.

"Yes, Tony. Glad you thought of that," he beamed and kissed his forehead. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised, since you're so smart."

"Nope," Tony said cheerfully. "Hey, Athena—thanks for coming over. It means a lot, really."

Athena didn't say a word, just regarding Tony quietly for a second. Then she sighed and patted his shoulder.

"I gotta, considering you putting yourself in mortal danger is becoming your goddamn hobby, hero boy," she muttered. "Steve, get some paper; I'm going to give him the drugs he needs and leave a list of his dosages behind with you. He's going to need an IV drip for at least a week. After that, we'll see." She frowned, making a few notes.

"I want to run it by the rest of the medical staff first, but frankly, I think Tony's going to be out for a month at least. He can do light routine patrols around the city in two weeks, but until then, nada. He got injured in the most sensitive area possible—it'll heal, but I want it to be fully healed first, given the circumstances." Athena stood up, taking out the IV stand and a few bags and drips. "I'll be over daily to help with his care for the first week or so, all right?"

"More than all right, absolutely perfect!" Steve gushed. Relief filled his heart at the thought of Tony staying home, safe and sound. "Thank you, Athena. I could kiss you for this."

Athena just sighed and stuck the needle into Tony's vein, biting her lip. Tony didn't say a word, but his hand rested on hers for a second.

"He really does like you, you know," he murmured when she pulled away. "And so do I."

It wasn't enough. Nothing would be. But she didn't deserve it. She hadn't believed.

Athena started the drip and turned on the machines, letting JARVIS worm his way into the systems to help monitor Tony as well. She took the pen and paper Steve had gotten and wrote down a list of drugs and dosages, settling bottles and tins of medicine on the nightstand as she did.

"I'll be in touch, Captain. Keep him safe," She said curtly, before turning on her heel and heading out, taking her medical bag with her. Steve nodded, watching her leave. He didn't understand her pain, but he respected it. He just hoped she would feel comfortable sharing it with him later. For now...

Steve smiled as he climbed into bed, kissing and nuzzling Tony's neck.

He had a beautiful, brave and amazing Tony to take care of.

Tony snuggled into his touch, at ease. Steve stroked his hair and yawned, jetlag creeping into his veins, slow and sleepy and soft as a cat's tail. He nuzzled Tony's neck and smiled into his skin.

"How does some rest sound?" Steve murmured. "I was up on the plane talking to Athena. I think the jetlag hit pretty hard."

"Sleep, babe," Tony said. "I'll turn on a movie, even if I don't fall asleep. Besides, you're cute when you nap, y'know that? All innocent and angelic."

Steve blushed and grinned, nuzzling Tony as his lover patted his cheek, the two of them settling in comfortably as Tony turned on the television, watching a movie quietly as Steve slipped off into slumber beside him, worn out.

Tony waited until he could hear Steve's breathing slow down to lean in and kiss him.

"Hey, babe," he murmured. "I know you can't hear me, but...I figured I should say it anyway. It's okay to be scared. I'm here to protect you, too. You can be afraid. Because when I'm with you, when I'm protecting you...I'm not."

Tony kissed his forehead and smiled, settling in beside Steve, content. Steve inched closer, curling up beside him as if seeking out his heartbeat.

"Sweet dreams, soldier." Tony murmured. "I better be in them, okay?"

Steve exhaled in a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. Tony hummed, satisfied, and settled in to continue watching the movie.

...

The others were quiet as they lounged about the house, idly eating takeout and leftovers as they watched the news. Natasha was observing carefully, her eyes dulled with thought.

"What do we do if this is a way to harm Tony?" She asked. "I don't know what this could even be anymore, or what games Fury might be playing. How do you learn the rules without knowing the game, or win without any of the pieces?"

"Shoot the guy holding the dice," Clint replied.

Phil snorted before he could stop himself. He promptly shook it off, groaning.

"I wish I had an answer, but truth be told, I don't know," he replied. "We protect them both. And we stay on our damn toes. That's all we can do for the moment."

"Aside from shoot him," Clint offered.

"And you know we can't do that," Coulson reminded him. Clint's face grew sharp and harsh.

"I'd like to," he muttered. Coulson kissed his cheek.

"Yeah, me too." He murmured in reply.

The three of them curled up together, providing quiet comfort to one another; Pepper snuggled in between Bruce and Thor, wringing her hands.

"Love, don't hurt yourself..." Bruce murmured, his voice gently as he took Pepper's hands in his. "Tony's going to be fine. Just let Steve have some time to patch him up tonight; you can go see him in the morning, sweetheart."

"Yeah, I know..." Pepper sighed and nuzzled him, letting him stroke her hair and kiss her cheek. "I'm just scared. I don't want to just drop the company and leave everything behind. But if we have to run, we can't stay..."

"Then we do not run," Thor said firmly. "We fight. S.H.I.E.L.D. is a beast, but it can be slain."

"It wouldn't be a permanent solution," Phil replied. "I don't trust that we could be rid of them forever."

"Not forever, perhaps, but...if we could make them get rid of us, we can still act independently. I don't...want to stop helping people. I don't want to stop being a hero," Bruce said. Phil frowned.

"There is...one group Fury is forced to answer to; the World Security Council. If we appeal to them for help, maybe..." He trailed off with a sigh. "I can't even think about how we might go about doing that. But it might in fact be our only option."

"No one will harm my shieldbrothers ever again," Thor said, in that harsh and regal king's tone of his, and it settled the matter. "We will find them, and we will get him to back down. And he will return my brother."

"Of course, Thor," Phil said, keeping his voice soft. "He's waiting for you. I promise, he's fine."

"Thank you, Son of Coul. Your defense of my brother will not be forgotten by Asgard. Or myself." Thor murmured. "You are a great man. I cannot bear to think of losing you."

"He's got a point," Bruce said with a small smile. "You kinda run everything, Phil."

"Well, I help the team. That's my job." Phil said with a soft laugh. "But thanks, guys." He stood up and stretched. "Anyone feel up for ice cream? I'll drive. We could use some time away from the house."

They all nodded in agreement, following him outside and into the garage. Everyone piled into the car as Phil drove off, and even though it was a tight fit, they were all so much happier closer together.

...

Steve awoke awhile later, yawning and immediately stealing a glance over at Tony. His lover chuckled, amused, and kissed his cheek upon seeing him awake.

"Hey, Steve. Just watched a movie. I promise I didn't do anything dangerous, like blow up the lab or have a cup of coffee." He teased. Steve huffed and smiled.

"Heaven forbid," he mumbled, laying his head in Tony's lap. Tony stiffened with surprise at the warm, soothing feeling of Steve's head in his lap. The weight was a comfort, but he couldn't stop the warm swirls of arousal that threaded through him as Steve snuggled in, making himself comfortable.

"You comfy, big guy?" Tony said. Steve smiled.

"Well, yeah. Your lap is really soft." He hummed, content, before realizing something and looking up at Tony with concern. "I'm not hurting you, right?"

Tony huffed, leaning down to kiss the top of Steve's head. Steve smiled, relieved; Tony stroked his hair gently.

"No, never. It's my lap, not my chest. Are you having fun getting to mother hen? This is like the third time in three months." Tony teased. Steve rolled his eyes.

"If you would stop putting yourself in danger, we wouldn't have this problem," he muttered. "Tony, you know I just want you safe!"

"And sometimes I can't be. Heroes put their lives on the line. You know that," Tony stroked his hair. "The difference between me putting my life on the line last year and me putting my life on the line now is that now I have someone I want to live for. I promise, Steve; I really do try to keep myself safe when you're around. You matter that much to me."

Steve was quiet for a long time after that. Tony let him have his peace and quiet, just stroking his hair and murmuring to him; sweet nonsense, soft whispers of "I love you," letting Steve calm down and remind himself that Tony was here, Tony was alive, Tony wasn't going anywhere, and Tony loved him.

After awhile longer, Steve spoke.

"I'll never leave you," Steve promised. "Not as long as you need me. And honestly, Tony, I need you. Because I love you, a whole lot."

"Love you too, Cap," Tony murmured. "Don't worry. I like the idea of needing you forever. At least a little."

Steve smiled, and it was like the sun had risen early as he snuggled under the covers, curling up beside Tony and breathing in, taking in the soft warmth of his skin and the scent of life—musky, hot metal and the sweet spice of Tony's cologne.

The day went on without them; Coulson came in quietly to bring Steve a tray of food, should he wake, and left with a smile on his face, his worries soothed for the time being.

The others put affairs in order, read, lazed about, or spent time with their lovers; Steve and Tony were in their own bubble, somewhere else that was warm and safe and just big enough for two.

Steve awoke to eat, scarfing it down so as to spend time doing more important things, such as cradling Tony close. Tony seemed to agree; the only peaceful sleep he got that wasn't fits and spurts, jolted awake by shattered glass and bolts of bright blue electricity, was when Steve cradled him, reminding him of the strength he had, the safety that was so close by. Tony could touch it, call to it—his safety was Steve, and Steve was always with him.

That comfort snuggled carefully into every crevice of his brain, Tony fell back asleep each time, loved and protected and happier than he had ever been, even with the pain in his chest.

...

The next morning dawned slow over all of the Avengers. No one wanted to wake up. They knew at some point, rationally, that they would need to, but no one wanted to be the first one to start that trend.

Pepper woke first, worry for Tony forcing her awake. She awoke Bruce, who woke Thor, who woke Clint, who woke Phil and Natasha, and they all realized with the bleary grumpiness of morning that the domino effect of their wake-ups had set in again.

They all wanted to check on Tony, but they knew Steve was with him; they'd let Steve have a little while alone with him, then go up to see him. Besides, they could all use breakfast.

The group shuffled into the kitchen, brewing coffee and awaiting Tony eagerly. Still, they knew when to wait, and so they waited for Steve to come down and give them the all-clear as Phil cooked breakfast, making the kitchen a little warmer.

...

Steve woke up to Tony's warmth pressing into his body, a soft comfort as the dawn rose to greet them.

He stroked Tony's hair until he stirred, his lover yawning quietly as he turned around to look at Steve, a sleepy smile on his face.

"Hey," he slurred, nuzzling Steve's neck. "Did you eat?"

"No; we'll have breakfast when you're ready," Steve said, his voice gentle. "I want you well rested and eating right. You're going to be on bedrest for the rest of the week, according to Athena...and then we'll take it from there."

"I'm not helpless," Tony grumbled. "I don't need to be coddled."

"Tony, I know," Steve reminded him. "If it's any consolation, I'm going to be the one sparring with you while you're out of the field. I want to build up your muscle and make you stronger even when you're not inside the suit. I wouldn't do that if all I wanted to do was coddle you, now would I?" He said, his voice gentle. Tony huffed.

"No, I know. I just don't need everyone fussing. You kind of have to, but everyone else can chill out, right?" He said. Steve nodded.

"They'll let you be once they know you're safe. You don't need the whole house fussing for however long this takes." Steve murmured. Tony huffed.

"After Obie ripped mine out...it took about a week to get back on track. Mind you, that wasn't a shattering of the reactor—the energy that burst forth probably fucked me up more than the cardiac arrest. I'll have to check—" He caught sight of Steve and paused. "Uh...after the week's up."

"Of course. And I'll be with you in the lab." Steve said, his voice pleasant and amused. Tony stuck his tongue out at him.

"Yeah, fine. I really do wanna analyze the energy readings the suit picked up. Better to combat the Mandarin with," Tony frowned and gave Steve a look. "Don't pout at me, I'm not going to go fight him."

"No you're not. We'll let S.H.I.E.L.D. handle this. They _deserve_ to after what you got put through." Steve said, his voice surprisingly venomous. Tony nuzzled him to soothe his lover's wounded heart; Steve kissed his cheek.

"I'll be fine, Steve. And I won't go risking myself. Not with you around." Tony kissed him. "I have something to live for with you here."

"I'm so glad," Steve murmured, a small smile on his face. "I just want you safe, you know that."

Tony yawned and nodded, getting up out of bed and going to get dressed.

"Yeah, I know, babe," he said. "And I'm gonna be, okay? I have you and I have the team. I'm not gonna do anything stupid for a month at least. I'll write you up a binding document if it makes you happy. Do you want it in triplicate? Phil can do triplicate. Especially if you sign it so he can hang it on his mantle."

"It would. But I'd rather you not put the burden on Phil. I'll just have to trust you." Steve teased, pecking his cheek. Tony grinned.

"Well, that won't be too hard," he teased. "So, breakfast?"

"Definitely," Steve agreed with a small smile.

They walked downstairs, hand in hand, grinning like fools as Tony leaned in for another kiss.

...

"So, what're you two going to do now?" Coulson asked Steve as the two of them went to sit outside on the porch for awhile, everyone still inside at the breakfast table and fussing over Tony. Steve sighed, leaning back on the front steps and sipping his coffee.

"I'm going to take care of him, mostly," Steve said. "Make sure he doesn't hurt himself. And that S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't hurt him. After that...who knows? I feel like..." Steve sighed. "I feel like this is going to be forever—that I have no chance of getting out of this constant cycle of fighting Fury and trying to protect Tony..."

Coulson's heart ached with the urge to tell Steve. But he couldn't. Not yet. Not until they had a plan.

He could at least give him some hope, though. At least that much—for his Captain.

"Well, Steve...we were going to try to leave." Coulson said. Steve perked up immediately. Coulson was vindicated by the sheer relief on his hero's face.

"We don't know where yet. S.H.I.E.L.D. could track us damn near anywhere...but Thor offered Asgard. I just...don't want Tony to have to leave his company. And I mean, we do have a responsiblity to Earth—all of us do. But...we have a responsiblity to ourselves, and if this is what keeps us all safe and alive...then it's my responsibility to make that call." Coulson said.

"I know," Steve said, "and you bear the responsibility very well. I'm so proud, Phil."

Phil gave him a genuine smile of delight. Steve chuckled, finishing up his coffee.

"Some downtime in Asgard might be nice," he admitted. "I think having Odin intervene on our behalf might help. If he threatens to call off alliance with Earth...Fury might think twice about chasing us."

"I hadn't thought of that," Coulson said, further impressed by his Captain's strategic mind. "I'll speak to Thor. He knows Odin better than I would." He frowned. "If he knew they had Loki..."

"If anyone was holding my child captive, I'd burn everything they owned to the ground." Steve said. "I suspect Odin would do the same."

"Even after Loki..." Phil trailed off.

"He's still his son," Steve said, his voice firm. "Will you speak to Thor?"

"As soon as possible," Phil agreed, hope rising in his chest; they might get out of this without conflict, without him ever having to see Steve turn into the soldier, the Avenger, ever again. "Even if we can't contact Odin yet, we can plan."

"Thank you, Phil," Steve said, a small smile on his face. "We'll fix this. Don't worry."

Phil could almost believe him, with the sun shining through his golden locks and his dazzling smile making Phil a little weak in the knees. For a little while, he allowed himself the hope.


	113. The Everlong Tease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deep talk and a friendly reminder the author likes Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story; I happened to WRITE this around December, but since, you know, the Neverending Story, it's only going up now. Happy late Christmas?  
> Anyways, if it makes you feel any better, putting up another Steve/Tony fic very soon, (and another possible one after that, with werewolves, because who doesn't like werewolves?), and those will have actual sex scenes, I swear to god. The rest of my career is going to be an apology for the Cockblocking Saga of this fic, it really is.  
> Mind you, there's a legitimate reason as to why they can't have sex now, and it isn't, surprise surprise, Tony's innumerable insecurity issues. What it IS, though, remains to be seen.

The next week was...interesting.

Tony didn't like being on bed rest, but he liked all the kisses Steve gave him for being on bed rest, so that was that. Steve liked kissing Tony and Tony being on bed rest, so that was that as well. The two of them settled into the routine pretty comfortably; Tony let Athena take his vitals and run drugs through his veins to keep his heart valves from collapsing or the shrapnel shredding anything, and Steve monitored his heartbeat and watched over him when Athena went back to base.

Phil had spoken with Thor; the god had liked the idea he proposed well enough, but contacting his father would most likely be the problem, as he had said. 

"I think, perhaps, Loki might...be able to reach across the worlds and send a message," Thor said, "but we cannot know that, and it is as you say; getting him out would spark the war. I would rather fetch my brother when it is already raging."

"Understandable," Phil agreed, "I'd rather we wait as well. But at this point...I don't know what will tip the balance."

"I can try to contact Heimdall; there are ways into the Bifrost nearby. If I can even send a request for Huginn and Muginn, we may have a way to contact my father." Thor said. Phil nodded. 

"That'll work; thank you, Thor. Keep an eye out for any working portals to the Bifrost. We'll have awhile," he said with a frown, "Tony's still healing."

"I assumed as much, Son of Coul. We will not strike, regardless of our plans, until Anthony is safe." Thor agreed. "Do you worry Fury will not do the same?"

"Yes," Coulson said. "And if he attacks...it has to be war. And the Captain has to get involved."

"The thought is worrying," Thor murmured. "A good man should not go to war. Not like this."

"I know, Thor. But if it's any consolation, he'll be willing to fight it." Phil replied. Thor sighed, shaking his head.

"But will we be willing to deal with what happens when he does?" The god mused, shaking his head.

Phil didn't have an answer for that.

"We'll get Loki out as soon as we can; if Odin agrees to threaten rescinding the alliance, then we can get him out without fear of retaliation. Just...try to find him." Phil said. Thor nodded.

"Aye, Son of Coul. I will." He embraced Phil roughly, stroking his hair. "You take care yourself; you are wearing yourself down, Phil, and it will do you no good."

"Thanks, Thor," Phil murmured. "I'll do my best to relax, given the circumstances."

Thor clapped him on the shoulder once before leaving to see what could be done about contacting Heimdall.

Phil remained where he was, quietly watching the sun rise.

...

"My _father_?" Loki roared, sitting on a golden wisp of magic. "You intend to contact that lackwit, more fond of narcoleptic fits than rule?"

"I see you're still bitter," Phil remarked. In a dreamscape like this, he had less qualms about dry wit. Besides, the god knew he had need of him. It wasn't so bad, really, to be able to trade barbs with someone without fear of repercussion.

"Understandable, is it not? The fool drops the weight of the world on my shoulders and then deigns for a nice nap on the steps, like Thor after I've dragged him from a tavern or two. Why should he not faint like a maiden when confronted with your problems as well?" Loki snapped.

"Because they concern you and Thor," Phil replied, "and fight and fuss as you might, your father clings to you all the harder. He would raise Asgard not for Thor, his golden heir, the lion of Asgard, because Thor can take care of himself. You, though...you are suffering. You are the lost son, the lost prince, and you have fallen into a trap not even you can finagle your way out of. He will come for the lost son, the hurting son, and he knows his other son will as well."

Loki was quiet for a long time.

"I..." He looked away and said no more for a time. Phil waited, patient; time passed strangely in Dreams, and so he could afford patience.

"I am not so sure as you," Loki said. "Of Thor's love, I could be certain of above all else. Of my father...I do not know. It was not _your_ trust he shattered after thousands of years spent building it."

"I know, Loki. I can't understand such a burden, but I can tell you this; Thor's love will not be enough. It does not have the might of Asgard behind it. I know you trust him, but it is Odin with the way to perhaps get you out," Phil replied, his voice calm and patient. "It is a hard battle ahead, one the Avengers will need assistance for."

"And who better to aid them against a trickster than a trickster?" Loki murmured, thoughtful. Phil sighed.

"I wish, Loki, I truly do. Your aid would be invaluable. But I just don't see it becoming a reality," he apologized. Loki shrugged.

"Do not go to Odin just yet. If we have need of the fool, he will come. He enjoys hogging the glory that way. But I would think a snake sinking fangs into flesh from the shadows is a much more fitting end for the great snake himself than a lion beating down his door," Loki said. "Give me time, Son of Coul."

"How much? The next mission Fury forces Tony on might be his last! How much time do you _need_ , Laufeyson?" Phil snapped. 

To his surprise, the golden ribbon beneath Loki began to glow. Loki blinked, a strange light not unlike triumph glittering in his eyes.

"I should not think much longer," he said, his tone one of careful consideration. "If Fury shows signs of stirring, send for the lion. If not, let the snake wind his way through the shadows. His fangs are smaller, but far sharper...and _far_ more fatal."

Loki took Phil's face into his hands and gave him a quick kiss on each cheek in farewell.

"Until then, Son of Coul. Wait for the serpent's strike; you will find the lion much harder to tame," Loki told him.

Phil sighed and threw up his hands after Loki disappeared, fed up with the metaphors and hurt feelings. He awoke beside his darlings with his cheeks stinging with betrayal; he muttered a quick curse towards Loki underneath his breath before settling back in for the night, hoping to be kissed awake by his lovers.

...

Phil waited two weeks to tell Thor; his search for a contact point was fruitless, and so Phil busied himself with other things—namely, watching over his team. Steve was sparring with Tony now, taking him on runs through the cold city streets on occasion, taking care never to tax his lover any more than needed. He understood Tony's frailities better than any of them, when Phil thought about it; it was Steve who listened to his heartbeat and knew his aching, glowing heart better than anyone—perhaps even Tony himself. After all, Tony did not listen to his own heartbeat, counting each one, deciding if the number meant safety or peril.

When he spoke with Thor, the god appeared pensive at Loki's words. He knew that Thor wouldn't appreciate the jibes at Odin, deserved or no. But then he spoke of Loki's faith in his love and knew that his annoyance was a slight stone, to be swept aside by the roaring floods that made up his love for Loki, innumerable in his veins.

"Thank you, Son of Coul. It is a relief to have heard from my brother," Thor said. "But I am curious—what did he mean by getting out? It is as you said; he is trapped, without his magic."

"He's the greatest liar in the world," Phil said. "Perhaps even the Director might be fooled by a declaration of repentance and sanity from the Silvertongue himself. If he intends to weasel out that way, it would prevent bloodshed, at least."

"Do you think it will come to war?" Thor asked, hesitant. Phil sighed.

"Not the kind of war you know. But it might. It all depends on how badly we shake up the gameboard. If we manage to get all the players on our side off of it, well then, Fury has nothing to play against. But if we simply switch out a few, or reclaim another...it might lead to war, yes." Phil looked haggard; Thor put a calming, strong hand on his shoulder. 

"The kind of war the Captain will fight. It's for Tony. He could find no better cause. But..." Phil sighed. "Nevermind. We'll worry about that later." 

"Aye," Thor agreed. "You especially. Rest, Son of Coul. You look weary enough to have lived nine lives, each more trying than the last."

"I'm trying to keep eight other people alive," Phil remarked, "I suppose that's only fitting."

Thor was quiet.

Then he embraced him, the embrace rough but loving. Coulson allowed himself a moment to relax—it was hard not to, in Thor's strong, firm arms and against his broad, proud chest.

"You are worthy, Son of Coul," Thor finally said, love and pride and understanding clear in his tone. Sorrow as well, but Phil didn't dwell upon it. "You are worthy of love and adoration, and I swear to you, you have it. We know without you we are lost."

"Yes..." Phil trailed off, not voicing the truth to Thor, who would only come to harm hearing it. 

_Without all of_ you, _so am I._

Phil sighed and shook his head. He could feel a migraine pounding at his temples again.

...

The entire month passed. Tony was beginning to heal, though progress was slow. It didn't help that he labored in the labs whenever possible, analyzing energy signals and feeding them back through all his technology, trying to find out what had been strong enough to pierce the armor and shatter the reactor.

Steve didn't like it, but he held his tongue as often as he could. There were a few times when his patience waned, and he hefted Tony over his shoulder and carried him up to his room, tucking him in and sitting with him so he wouldn't sneak back down, but he understood why Tony did what he did, and so those were rare occurrences.

Athena came with care for Tony and gossip for Phil. There had been a few oddities in the labs; nervous breakdowns from the most stalwart agents, sudden migraines and manic-depressive fits in her medical staff, and a general outpouring of emotion within the lower confines of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s labs. 

Phil accepted all this with a courteous nod and no more, keeping his counsel private. He would not speak to Athena of Loki. If she knew, she was a target, and the doctor's blood could not be on his hands. Steve would never allow it, for one. For another, he cared. She had tended to his lovers, and he would not forget that. It had been a kindness he had never expected—and would never be able to repay.

The winter hit in full force; it was, after all, the first week of December, and though the winter solstice sat at the twenty-first upon the calendar, the world had other ideas. They all awoke one morning to a foot of snow and Steve panicking in the kitchen.

"Do we have enough food? Will Tony be safe? JARVIS! JARVIS, I need deliveries made to the house, we're running low—damn it, don't worry about me for dinner, Tony needs—"

" _Tony needs you calm and at ease, Captain. We have overflowing stores. You need not fear a lack of food. I can name everything in the fridge and freezer, along with the cellar downstairs, if you so wish. We are fine. You are fine. Make yourself and Anthony cocoa and retire back to bed,_ " JARVIS advised.

For a few minutes, Steve didn't seem to hear him, his eyes grey as the past. 

He turned on his heel and went outside, barefoot and bare-chested, clad only in what he had slept in—sleek silk, ill-suited to the cold.

Steve shoved his fists into a snowdrift, his face like stone, his eyes betraying nothing of the man before them—rather, a boy in the past, whom winter's coming might have killed outright.

"It doesn't burn," he said, as the snowflakes fell across his flesh, to melt in sweet silence and run in rivers down his skin. "It doesn't burn," he repeated, his voice soft with awe. "I'm...fine. No fever. No chills. I'm...fine."

He looked up at the steel-grey sky and smiled. 

"Good," he finally murmured, thinking only of the life he had led before as he promised himself the truth, "that means I'm strong enough to protect Tony. That's all that matters."

He pulled his fists from the snow only to find them barely pink. 

His grin was one of triumph long due.

Steve went inside and made an enormous breakfast for him and Tony both, two mugs of cocoa steaming pleasantly upon the tray he had brought up to his lover.

"Snow?" Tony mumbled as he rolled over in bed, cracking open a single bleary eye. "Already?"

"Don't worry about it, Tony," Steve said, setting the tray down and climbing back into bed beside his lover. "Eat your breakfast. We have plenty."

Tony dug in with a pleased smile. Steve just sipped his cocoa, letting it warm him from the inside out. 

...

"So, sweetheart," Steve asked, a few days later when the snow continued to pile on them, burying them in the house, "what about Christmas?"

That perked everyone up, and they all perched eagerly around Steve and Tony, curious. Tony grinned.

"I was thinking once we get freed from this white mausoleum we could go tree shopping," he said. "Get some presents, fire up the ovens for a feast, and spend some time together. Why, did you have something else in mind?"

"No," Steve said with a smile, "it's just nice to know we agree."

"Well, cheers to that," Tony remarked, nuzzling his neck. "Don't worry. We'll have a nice big Christmas, and I'll be waiting for you under the tree."

Steve blushed bright pink as the others grinned amongst themselves—all save Pepper, who gave Tony a wary, concerned look. Tony snorted, shrugging it off.

That night, Tony pulled Steve into bed and insisted on teaching him a few more things. Steve had seemed eager at first, until Tony had went to pull his own pants down; then, Steve stopped him with a kiss.

"Not tonight," he said, his voice soft. "We haven't talked that over yet, darling."

"The point of fucking is _not_ to talk," Tony retorted with a roll of his eyes, "but I could get you to moan my name if you really want talking."

"Tony, please..." Steve sighed. "I don't want you calling it that. The point I'm trying to make with you is that I want the sex we have to be _special_ ; I want to make love to you, to show you I'll stay with you forever, rather than take you and then leave you in the morning. There's a difference you're not seeing, and the difference is in how that means I'd treat your body. You're the only person in the world that I want—please understand that. Until then, we can't..." Steve trailed off as Tony groaned.

"For fuck's sake, Steve, if you want to show me you're going to stay forever, you're doing a shitty job of it!" He snapped. Steve flinched.

"I just want you to know you're beautiful." He whispered.

"How can I until you show me?" Tony retorted.

Steve closed his eyes for a second. He didn't know what to do in a situation like this; he didn't know how to tell Tony that he had been raised to wait, to cherish slowly and carefully, to promise his heart before his body, and yet. He wanted him, he did, he just...didn't want this fuss, this insecurity that ripped at Tony to get infected with vindication, with some confirmation his body was all he wanted.

"I...was hoping my words might be enough." He replied.

Tony wasn't cruel, just hurt; his lover's obvious pain moved him, and he took Steve into his arms, giving his cheek a chaste kiss.

"Yeah they are, babe," he murmured. "Just...not forever."

"Tony, you're brilliant," Steve said. "It shouldn't take you much longer to know how much I love your heart and soul, not simply your body. I show you every day, don't I?"

Tony hummed with contentment, the argument forgotten.

"Yeah, you do," he said, snuggling close. "We'll try more tomorrow. And talk a little, if it makes you so happy. Night, Steve."

Steve couldn't forget the argument; it was a sign of how much he had failed, was still failing. But he could put it aside for now.

"Goodnight, Tony," he whispered, embracing him tight and kissing his forehead as the two of them drifted off, warm and safe in each other's arms.

...

The next morning, they did in fact talk some, and over the next week as well, in private with the snow to shield them from outside obligations. Steve did the best he could to explain himself in halting words, speaking only of his love and devotion, over and over until he feared he was becoming a broken record. Tony didn't seem to hear him, it felt like—like every time Steve tried to move forward, he looked back to realize Tony had already forgotten the last lesson.

He sighed and stroked Tony's hair as his lover slumbered beside him. Steve had gotten so far as to let Tony sit on his lap, feeling his erection beneath him, but then Tony had begged Steve to let him do things Steve hadn't even thought of—the confusion hadn't led to an argument, thank god, but worse; Tony wanted to show him what giving head was like, and Steve had enough trouble with one kind of sex as it was. Oral just seemed like fate was dumping another thousand-piece puzzle into his lap.

Still, Tony had reassured him it wasn't "as big a deal," and though Steve had severe doubts about that, he figured maybe trying it would help. A small step, perhaps.   
Tony's eyes lit up when he told him that the next morning.

"Is it okay if I...maybe...practice on you? I mean, I'm sure you know what to do already, so..." Steve trailed off as Tony growled.

"Oh, yes. Merry fucking Christmas to me," he said. "C'mere, babe. Take 'em off."

Steve nudged Tony's pants down hesitantly, kissing his thighs, his knees, and his calves until he got to his feet. Steve kissed every small, pink toe, as Tony actually giggled, ticklish. 

"You're not supposed to kiss there, y'know," he said. "Come up here already, willya?"

"I am supposed to kiss there," Steve protested. "It's part of your body too, and I find every part of you beautiful! We've been over this!"

"Yeah, yeah. I...I know," Tony sighed. "I know, I'm trying, and that's great, every part of me is beautiful, but only one part of me wants to be sucked off right now, so could we just..."

It was enough. He was understanding, and he wanted to get better. Steve loved him, Steve wanted him, and Tony wanted him too, and finally, just a bit, was understanding  _why._ He figured that meant they could go as far as this. They were both ready.

Steve slid up and kissed Tony's belly, nuzzling the soft skin before him as he smiled, edging down just a bit more to finally confront himself with what lay between the juncture of Tony's thighs.

His erection was a prominent bulge against the soft cloth, and Steve's face began to smolder. Tony chuckled, stroking his hair, looking down at him with nothing but love in his eyes.

"Beautiful," Tony murmured. "God, beautiful..."

He shuddered and winced as he said it, though, and Steve tensed with nervousness, stroking Tony's hair.

"Tony, are you all right?" He murmured. Tony's skin felt a little feverish to the touch...was that normal?

"F-fine," Tony rasped, but it was clear he in fact was not. "Steve, it's not—"

"Tony, you suffered severe heart trauma a month ago. Are you _sure_ you're okay?" Steve said. "I'm sure the newspapers would love it if you died like this, but I wouldn't."

Tony actually snorted at that. He shook his head and sat up, running a hand through his hair.

"There was a time back when I first got the reactor where getting it up hurt, yeah," he admitted, a flush across his face. "But...I just..."

Steve laid his face between Tony's legs and gave the clothed erection before him a soft, tender kiss.

Want and desire sprang up in him, unfurling and burning in his belly, spreading its way throughout his entire body in slow, easy strokes like a river. He shuddered against Tony's skin, but Steve knew he had to choke down his arousal—Tony's heart needed him now, more than Tony's body ever could.

"Tony, you know I'm okay with waiting," he said. "Even though I want you. I want you _so much_ right now, Tony, but I'm okay with waiting, because keeping you safe matters more to me."

Tony swallowed, shaking his head.

"But...I'm ready, I swear," he murmured. "I _want you_ , Steve..."

"And I want you, Tony. But I want you to be safe and sound first. You've done so good at listening and understanding, and I'm so proud. That means you're ready, and you're understanding, and I couldn't be happier," Steve promised, as his hand trailed down his belly, wrapping around his waist and pulling him close in bed.

"Once you're all healed up, I'll show you," he promised. "I'll take you right here, right in our bed, for hours and hours, until you're shaking and begging for more. I'll give it to you, Tony—no need to beg, I promise. I want to give you absolutely everything and make you love it. And we're going, as soon as you're well." 

Tony moaned, a puddle of want in Steve's arms. Steve kissed his forehead.

"Rest now," Steve soothed him, "we'll have our whole lives to make love. But tonight, we're going to rest. And when you get better, I'll show you it was worth the wait."

Tony nodded, nuzzling Steve's neck as his lover wrapped the blankets around them both, cradling Tony close until he drifted off, still warm with arousal.

Steve kissed the top of his forehead, relieved. He understood. And maybe, just maybe...he was starting to break through to Tony. That was worth denying himself. If it meant giving Tony everything...he would deny himself for as long as it took.


	114. Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cute holiday shenanigans a bit late, but it's the thought that counts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really apologize for this; I know it's February, but if I held it back until December, I doubt you'd be thrilled with me. So, er, I hope it's still good?  
> I dunno, I feel like the length is starting to sort of bore people. I'm trying to make updates as big as possible and move the story along, but I do promise it legitimately picks up after this brief interlude--the last major incident regarding the reactor happens, and Afghanistan comes back into play, so don't be afraid of a lack of action. It's coming.

The month waned, creeping towards Christmas; Steve was a holiday blur, traipsing about the house covered in lights, tinsel trailing behind him as he strung everything up and began to put everything together. He refused to let Tony help, citing that his injuries were still too severe—besides, he confessed with a smile, he really wanted to put this all together for Tony's sake.

Tony knew full well he couldn't resist Steve, so he simply threw his hands up and let his lover do as he liked, grumbling a bit about not being allowed to help, but seeming rather pleased about the whole affair, regardless. Pepper had usually taken care of Christmas around the mansion; Tony didn't get too deeply invested in the holiday. Christmas had meant a miserable day with his father, gifts he didn't want, and awkward family dinners he hated. Steve, however, was so happy that Tony wouldn't dare complain.

And in truth, it was kind of nice; the cookies Steve cajoled all the others into helping him with were delicious, the holiday music blasting ad nauseum was both frustratingly catchy and cute, in a kitschy sort of way, and the tree...

Steve had come home with a tree one night, grinning from ear to ear as he hefted a tree over his shoulder, humming contentedly as he set it down in the living room. It was enormous; ten feet at least, but Tony could buy twelve. The boughs were full and wide, the needles supple and bright, warm green. 

"The man down the street said he knew a place," Steve explained, "and, uh...they recognized me. So I got this!"

"And...you carried it home?" Pepper said, her eyebrow climbing into her hairline. Steve grinned sheepishly, his face red from embarrassment and cold.

"Uh, yeah," he said. "It wasn't too heavy, and it was only ten blocks...besides, I did it for Tony, so I don't mind!"

Tony, who had been sitting on the couch with a mug of cocoa and his tablet, flushed bright red and looked away. Steve smiled, nervous, as he shifted from foot to foot.

"So, uh...it passes muster?" He asked, his voice soft. "You...you like it? I mean...I bought it for you. Because...you know, Christmas."

Tony looked at that tree and saw, for just a second, spilled bottles of spiced rum, presents so at odds with him they seemed to belong to another, more normal boy, in another life, and a dinner growing cold in front of him as he hugged his knees tight to his chest and tried not to cry.

"...It's great," he said. "I just...wasn't really expecting you to...y'know. Go all out. Never done that before."

Steve looked scandalized; he shook his head and embraced Tony, ruffling his hair and stroking his cheeks, giving them a quick kiss before pulling away and smiling down at his smaller lover.

"Hey, it's Christmas. You should go all out, Tony. Especially considering it's _you_ we're talking about." He teased. Tony stuck his tongue out; Steve laughed and kissed him again, tasting the warm chocolate on his tongue.

"Fair enough," Tony agreed with a smile when they pulled away. "Do what you like, Steve. I'll give you whatever you need; if you wanna be the Christmas fairy, go nuts. For now, though, let's set up the tree."

"Okay! That'd be swell, Tony, thanks!" Steve said, giving him another delighted kiss. "I've always wanted to have a big Christmas..."

"Then a big Christmas you shall have," Tony agreed, "and a big tree too, apparently."

"Well, it'll fit everyone's presents underneath it, at least," Steve remarked. Tony snorted with amusement, going to set everything up.

...

And that, in short, was how they had ended up where they were now; waist-deep in presents, a pot of cocoa simmering on the stove almost all day, every day, stupid holiday music piped through JARVIS' speakers, plates of cookies on every counter, tinsel strewn everywhere, and little Santa hats for Dummy, Butterfingers, and You as they trundled around the house, following after Steve and beeping with delight at their newfound wardrobe.

"It worries me how much the bots like him," Tony remarked to Bruce as he fiddled in his lab—which, thankfully, had remained holiday-free for the most part. Bruce insisted on a few lights and a plate of cookies—considering how rarely Tony ate in the lab, he acquiesced, but only gave into the lights when he remembered this was Bruce's first Christmas with a happy home and a family. Then he came down and plugged them all in himself; Bruce's smile the next morning had been worth it.

"Well, he gave them Santa hats," Bruce replied, trying not to smile and failing. Tony looked so befuddled. "Tony, they're _your_ robots; of course they like him. He's like their second daddy now."

"Oh, true," Tony agreed. "So, speaking of daddies, how's the babymaking going with Pep?"

Bruce's face burned red and he looked away, running a hand through his hair.

"Um," he replied, "well, we both agreed it's better to wait on having children until...you know, after S.H.I.E.L.D., and after we sort of...settle down, and things are really nebulous right now, so we just..."

"Bruce, I know; calm down, you've been dating for about three months, I doubt Pep's jumping up and down for a baby already." Tony said, keying in a few commands into the computer and looking at the results. "I meant, well; how's the sex?"

"It...it's...well, it...is?" Bruce said, his face still red. "Tony, are you okay? I mean, not for nothing, but you wouldn't...normally ask."

"Nah, it's your sex life; none of my business. But..." Tony sighed. "Fuck, Steve..."

"Is he okay?" Bruce asked. "What, is this some internalized homophobia thing, or is he, well...I mean, you'd think the serum would've fixed..."

"He's fine _with_ dick, and his dick _is_ fine— _very_ fine, in fact—but I really seem to be the problem here." Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "Bruce, he won't touch me. He keeps telling me I need to realize I'm 'more than my body' or some Zen bullshit, and I just..." Tony swallowed. "It's not a problem with me, right? I mean...you'd fuck me, right?"

"Tony, the reason you're asking me that is the reason you and Steve aren't having sex," Bruce said, his voice gentle. "Listen, you're not just a warm body to him—that's what he's trying to tell you. He wants a whole, happy relationship, sex included—you want the sex, but you don't seem to think you deserve the happy relationship Steve wants with it. You're not the sum of your private parts, basically."

Bruce sighed and sipped his cocoa. "Look, you're talking to someone who couldn't even use his hand for seven years; sex has ceased to become a priority for me, in all honesty. Steve was a virgin for his entire life, and then woke up to find himself effectively betrothed to an incredibly attractive rich man who's been in love with him for half his life. It's...probably a little disconcerting."

"I'm sure. Thanks for the compliment, though," Tony teased. Bruce chuckled.

"You're welcome," he said. "In all seriousness, though...Steve wakes up to find you basically waiting for him, handed up to him on a serving platter by your dad, and while we both _know_ you love him, the truth was that you've been telling yourself that all you deserve is letting Steve "take" you, like you're a toy. He didn't want a toy, not even one Howard made just for him. He wants _you_ , Tony. And that means he wants to wait. He needs you to get that the two of you having sex isn't the apex of the relationship, everything else going downhill in importance from there. You've had roller-coaster relationships all your life; a nice peak and then a downward spiral. Steve just wants a smooth, easy ride; sex is only, uh...one stop on the way, metaphorically speaking," Bruce finished. "Does that make sense?"

Tony stared at him, and Bruce despaired; the equal mix of confusion, hurt, and worry in Tony's eyes said very clearly that no, no it didn't.

"You know he loves you," Bruce said. "Let yourself believe it'll last forever. That's what him waiting means; that he knows your past, what you've been through, and wants to wait so you know he's serious. He wants you to know this is going to last forever by showing you what the rest of your life together with him is going to look like first, without sex involved. Tony, he wants _you_ now, not your body, or your money, and...well, once you understand that, he'll jump your bones for sure. Until then, though..." He trailed off. Tony rolled his eyes.

"You know, for someone who didn't even jerk off for seven years, you're one hell of a sex therapist," Tony remarked. Bruce snorted, amused.

"A lot of time spent not doing it gives you a lot of time to _think_ about it, as I've found," he replied. "So...what're you going to do now, Tony?"

"Spend Christmas with my boyfriend," Tony said. "And...after that, I don't know."

"Well, consider the reactor as well," Bruce told him. "Don't forget—he doesn't understand that thing's limits. None of us really do. He might honestly think you're ready, but he's holding out because of your injuries. Just ask him, okay?"

"I will, I will," Tony replied. "For now, I've been itching to spend time down here. It's nice to have a lab partner."

"Good to know I'm not just an assistant," Bruce remarked, amused. Tony ruffled his hair, grinning.

"Nah," he said. "My assistants tend to spray me with fire extinguishers and drop everything. I'm pretty sure you deserve the upgrade."

The two of them shared a quick smile before going back to work, comparing notes and starting the blueprints for a potential clean-energy gamma reactor. Even as he worked, though, Tony couldn't help but think of Steve, his heart seizing up a little every time he did, his mind whirring on overdrive to understand, perhaps, what his lover wanted from him.

...

Steve crawled into bed that night beside his lover with a warm smile, kissing his neck. They had the company Christmas dinner tomorrow, and Steve had been busy that week with both preparations for that, as Pepper's assistant, and S.H.I.E.L.D. business. 

While Athena had basically told Fury that Tony was either suspended from active duty or he was getting a syringe to the face, the others had continued in missions, S.H.I.E.L.D. routine, and other Avengers-related things, which had eaten up Steve's entire week after the preparations. He had been aching to be with Tony for as much of the past few days he could remember. They had eventually blended together into holiday work and filing paperwork, with a smattering of villain-crushing. Nothing new.

Steve kissed Tony's shoulder as Tony moaned, shivering in his embrace. As Steve slipped a warm, broad arm around his waist, Tony tensed, anticipating his next move. When

Steve just pulled him closer, stroking his hair, Tony knew he had to make a move.

"Hey, babe," he said, trying to keep his voice gentle and calm despite his inner turmoil, "got a question for you."

"Oh?" Steve asked. "Are you all right, Tony?"

"Yeah, fine—I'm fine, I swear," Tony promised. "I just...was wondering something. Bruce and I were talking awhile back, and he mentioned that...y'know. Part of the reason you wouldn't have sex with me was because of the reactor injury. Is it? Or is it, y'know...me?"

"You're not messed up, sweetheart," Steve said, his voice gentle. "Do you understand that? That's important. You might have a few ideas and preconceived notions about lovemaking I want to fix...but you're okay. I don't want you to think I'm displeased with you. I want to help you, Tony."

Tony sighed and rolled over, laying his head against Steve's shoulder, holding him tight.

"Do me a favor," Tony said. "Tell me all about what you want to do. I like...I like hearing it."

Steve nodded before planting a kiss on Tony's neck, nuzzling the junction between his neck and shoulder. "I want you to realize you're not just here to make love to me. I want you to know that whatever Howard raised you to do, or whatever you've been taught to think from past relationships, right here and now, you're my Tony, you'll _always_ be my Tony, and I'm always going to love you." 

"I want you to know that this won't be some terrible turning point in our relationship; I don't want you to think I've 'taken everything I want' from you, because then that would mean I'd want to leave. I don't, not ever. I want to make love to you one night, and I want it to be absolutely perfect; I want everything to go right, and I want it to be one of the best nights of your life. But I want to wake up the next morning, make you a nice breakfast, and then go down into the lab with you so I can watch you work while I draw. I want the day after to be normal and happy," Steve said, stroking his hair.  "I don't want you to think I'll get up, pack my things, and leave, or that I'll expect you to buy me something, or anything like that. I want you to get used to this, to us, as a normal, continuous part of your existence. You and I are in this _together_ , Tony, for the long haul, and that means sex isn't the end or the beginning of anything; just a larger part of a whole. Does that make sense?"

Tony nodded against his neck, hesitant. Steve rubbed his back.

"Good," he said, "that's so good."

"That's just what Bruce said," Tony said, his voice heavy and rough. "Well, sort of. Close enough, I mean." 

"Good. I'm glad he could help you; I think sometimes your friends can help you in different ways than I can," Steve sighed. "Anyway...you asked about the reactor and the injuries you sustained awhile ago. Tony, I..." 

He gave himself a minute to collect his thoughts before kissing Tony's forehead.

"See, I think you've started to understand a bit better," Steve said. "Really, all we need now is more time; time for you to get used to the life we're living now. We went so fast into this relationship that right now, I want to move slow, take things easy. And you understand enough that the rest will come with a bit of time spent experiencing it. I'm not concerned anymore about that; I do think you understand. That said...yes, the reactor worries me," he frowned, tracing the metal rim. 

"I want to keep an eye on it," he said. "Your readings are returning to normal, but the rest of your body was affected, and until I know that my enhanced strength won't hurt you or the reactor in any way, I'm...well, scared. I don't want to hurt you the first time we make love, Tony."

"I get it," Tony murmured. "You don't need to be scared. We'll make sure I'm okay."

Steve smiled with relief, kissing Tony's forehead again, rubbing his back with his free hand, slowly trailing down to stroke him.

"Thank you for getting it," Steve promised. "Don't worry. It seems like you're starting to understand, and I'm so glad; that means the wait won't be much longer. I've wanted to make love to you for so long..."

"Me too," Tony replied, unable to stop himself from smiling; his relief ached deep down into his heart as he spoke. "I've wanted this forever."

He kissed Steve's forehead. "But tonight, I can wait; get some sleep, okay? We're heading into Aspen in the morning, I packed the bags already, but the flight's early."

"What? Pepper didn't say the dinner was in Aspen!" Steve protested. "But I decorated the whole house for Christmas!"

"I know, I know, she probably forgot, we're so used to being in Aspen for Christmas. But this year, I promise, we'll only be going to Aspen for the weekend and coming back for Christmas; it's okay. We'll be home in time to appreciate your ridiculously holly jolly holiday decorations, babe," Tony promised. Steve groaned.

"All right, all right...goodnight, Tony. See you in the morning," he said, kissing Tony's forehead. His lover smiled up at him before closing his eyes, drifting off in the span of a few short minutes.

Steve's heart had never been more at ease as he looked down at his lover. Tony understood. Not perfectly, not everything, but he understood. Steve had set him on the right course; he just needed to keep going forward beside him. Tony would be just fine. And when he was...

Steve's whole body shuddered with anticipation as he sighed at the thought, embracing Tony and holding him as close as he could as he drifted off beside his lover, snow falling outside their window as they cradled each other close, warm and safe.


	115. Late Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff happens in the holiday sense. Bruce and Pepper refuse to rush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I wanted shameless fluff but didn't want to hasten a big thing like, well, what goes on in the chapter. Long periods between what occurs in the chapter and its end result aren't uncommon, though, and, to be fair, there's an extremely limited pool of likely candidates due to the whole superhero thing.  
> Anyways, the fakeouts will stop soon, I promise. Tony's health is at risk, though, and since none of them know why, (there is a reason at work, here!), no one wants to risk it. There's porn in Risorgere solely to make up for the lack of dick I've shared with all of you, I swear.

The next morning saw the whole team out of bed, all of them yawning widely and preparing to leave, throwing last-minute items into suitcases and getting herded by JARVIS, Pepper, and Phil into the car, immediately falling back asleep once Phil turned the keys in the ignition. He rolled his eyes, amused, and shook his head as he pulled out of the driveway and turned right, heading for the airport.

They could all use the vacation, give them a break, had been Pepper's excuse, and it wasn't that Coulson didn't agree; he had seen the negative effects of stress on his lovers before, and it bothered him, but...

They could use the vacation, certainly. But the last thing they needed was an attempt to get through airport security.

Thankfully, someone had talked Thor into leaving his armor at home, so his general befuddlement at being herded through the JFK terminal wasn't exactly the worst Phil had anticipated. The sheer amount of tech Tony had brought along with him would have warranted them twenty minutes in detainment, at any rate, but thankfully someone there recognized the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents travelling alongside them. 

The trip was a lot quieter after that.

Pepper got them set up in their jet—some fancy one that had beds for businessmen. Tony flopped down on one immediately, ignoring everyone else except Steve, who smiled and came over to cuddle up next to him before the two drifted off, content. Phil tucked Clint and Natasha back in, murmuring loving words to them both before settling in beside them and picking up his pen, scribbling away at paperwork. 

Pepper soothed Bruce, who had been on edge the entire time they had gone through airport security and gotten onto the flight, allowing him the moment to bury his face into her neck and breathe, slow and soft, soothing himself as her warm hands stroked his face and back, tucking him in as she spoke to him, loving and gentle. 

She went to go get her laptop with a sigh, nervous about leaving him, before Thor took her hand and kissed it, giving her a small, reassuring smile.

"Fear not, my lady," he promised. "I will watch over him. Do what you must...but I'd advise you to rest again. Surely the feasts we are to bear witness to at this winter fortress will be magnificent, and you will want to be awake for them."

"Of course," Pepper nodded, stifling a yawn. "I just have a few things I need to look over...hold on, Thor." She kissed his cheek and settled in, checking her emails. Most of them were related to Stark Industries—except one. Pepper frowned; the email address was blocked off, which had to mean S.H.I.E.L.D. had a hand in this...

She read it regardless, worried and eager in equal measure; she had to know what was so vital they would email her.

_"Agent Potts; regarding the matter of Tony Stark, he is set to receive another medical exam December 26th, whereupon he will be evaluated regarding his availability for active duty. Ensure you're home from Aspen by then."_

Pepper couldn't help but shudder. It wasn't that the Stark Industries' Christmas party in Aspen wasn't known about by the staff and press alike—it was one of the very few company Christmas parties in which you were likely to actually enjoy yourself—but knowing they knew that was where the team was headed worried her.

And the medical evaluation...well. It would hopefully be Athena, but it had been a month; Fury was probably getting fed up with the waiting game. If he really intended to put Tony in harm's way, he wouldn't wait much longer...

Pepper looked over at her sleeping friends and sighed. Tony was snuggled up in Steve's embrace; everything about his body language spoke of how relaxed he was, how safe the arms he was wrapped in made him feel. He only moved in his sleep to move closer to Steve. The reactor glowed in his chest, throwing light about the cabin as he shifted.

Steve's arm moved up, as if to hold the reactor close and keep it safe. In his sleep, Tony smiled.

They were happy. They were at ease. And they were going off to have a lovely weekend in Aspen. The last thing Pepper wanted to do was ruin it for them.

Still, there was one person she knew she needed to tell.

She signaled to Phil, beckoning him over quietly; he got up, curious, and peeked over her shoulder at the laptop screen before them. She knew he had finished reading the email when his face had gone a sharp, sudden pale.

"They can't...really think he's ready for active duty, can they?" Phil asked. "Steve's only just bringing him back, muscle-wise, to where he was before...he's not fit for combat. I'd say a few routine patrols, some minor things to get him back on track...but Christ, nothing like what Fury wants. Fury wants him back in Afghanistan, make no mistake."

"I figured as much," Pepper agreed. "We'll protect him, Phil, don't worry about that. And god forbid, but...if we can't, well...Steve will." Pepper sighed. "That worries me, though, a lot; once Steve knows, there's no going back. We fight the war head-on from there on out; Steve's not a "games and lies" kind of guy."

Phil nodded in agreement; he looked weary and worn out beyond reason, shuddering with exhaustion as he sat down beside her.

"No," he agreed, "no, no he isn't, and it's probably better that way. I can barely stand this game, and I've spent over a decade playing others like it. Steve...Steve can't. Soon, that'll be an advantage. But not until we've backed all of Fury's pawns into a corner." Phil said, standing up and sighing.

"Ms. Potts, I suggest you rest; god only knows we all need it, you especially. I'll handle the rest of the paperwork; I got a good night's sleep, and there's not much. Just rest." Phil soothed her. Pepper nodded, her face pale beneath her freckles. 

"Yes, I...I'll be fine, Phil, I promise," she said. She got up to climb into bed; as she did, she passed Tony and Steve. She couldn't help herself from cupping Tony's cheek, feeling warm stubble beneath her, just for a second. As if in response, Tony hummed, sounding content and at ease. Pepper smiled, a bit more relieved, before slipping away, heading towards her own bed. Thor regarded her with warm blue eyes. Pepper sighed and took his hand.

"Thor, if...if you don't mind, I'd...feel a lot better with both of you around," she said. "I just...am a bit nervous this morning, I think. Nerves, is all. It's going to be quite a shock to bring Bruce in on my arm...for him, me, and the execs both."

"They will love him as we do," Thor said simply, "or they will feel the wrath of my hammer." 

"Don't do that, we're only just climbing back up to pre Iron-Man stock levels," Pepper mumbled, rubbing her eyes. Thor chuckled, taking her hand and guiding her into bed before climbing in beside her and wrapping his arms around her and Bruce both, settling them in and cradling them close. Pepper rested between her lover's gentle warmth and her friend's ferocious strength, and found herself quite content. 

She kissed both of them, sleepy and sweet, before snuggling in between them and closing her eyes, allowing herself to drift off, her breathing soft as the team all finally settled in, heading for a nice, cheerful weekend of peace.

...

The weekend went..well. It was odd to walk in with someone beside her who wasn't Tony, someone who looked so shy in a suit, uncomfortable but eager to please. Bruce had been careful, considerate, and gentle, but Pepper had seen the flash in his eyes when other men approached her, all smiles and champagne. She would excuse herself with a polite smile and rejoin him on the dance floor, her careful hands soothing shaking skin and flushed features. 

Tony had the time of his life with Steve; finally, he had someone who would be kind to him and dance with him, who enjoyed listening to him prattle on with the engineers about some new fusion reactor or other fascinating gadgets he understood little about, someone who fed him bites off his plate and French dipped him on the dancefloor. The two of them went out in the snow for hours, playing with the team and making snowmen. 

Clint and Natasha had never made a snowman, they confessed; Phil, despite not being a large fan of traipsing about in the snow, hauled himself outside and away from the fireplace to teach his lovers how, and then, in fact, taught them something even more fun—snowball fights.

Considering the team consisted of a stealthy assassin used to working in the snows of Russia, a sniper, an engineer with a doctorate in physics, a super-soldier, and a god with one hell of a throwing arm, Bruce hastily excused himself to go sip cocoa inside with Pepper, lest the Hulk decide on tossing around people instead. The others, well...

The entire team, shepherded in by Coulson, came back to Pepper hours later, when the sky had begun to grow dark; they all shivered and shook, Phil included, despite his normal aversion to snow, but all of them were grinning with delight as they proffered up chapped cheeks to be lotioned and kissed, cold hands and bright eyes, and plenty of wet laundry that Pepper sent off to the hotel staff with a sigh of apology. 

Her kids were happy, though, and that was what mattered. 

It hadn't escaped Bruce's notice, either; they laid in bed together that night, watching the snow fall, and he wrapped an arm around her stomach, kissing her shoulder tenderly.

"You know, it's a little worrying how well we kept them together," he said, amused. "We sat inside and sipped cocoa all day while I knitted and you read. It was alarmingly parental."

"It was," Pepper agreed. "I didn't know you knit, by the way. It's adorable."

"Calming," Bruce said, his face pink. "The relaxation through routine and repetition technique; it's nice. I mean...well, y'know. It'll be useful someday, won't it?"

"Yep," Pepper agreed with a grin, "all those kids down there trading hot chocolate and drying off by the fireplace are going to need a really big blanket."

Bruce snorted, choking down his giggles; Pepper nudged him gently, a quiet reminder that she loved his laugh. He let them loose after that, and they soothed her heart in a way she couldn't quite explain.

"For them, too, one day," she said. "That'll be a much easier job, though. A lot less person to cover when they're so tiny."

"Yeah," Bruce agreed, his voice heavy with awe; tiny, something small and fragile...and yet, he could have that, maybe. "It's okay, Pepper. We wait until we're ready. But, uh, for what it's worth...you'd be a great mom. And you're already a great, er...girlfriend." He kissed her cheek again, nervous. "S-sorry. I know that's not really the best of words, but..."

"Well, how does _fiancee_ sound?" Pepper asked.

Bruce's hand froze on her stomach. 

"E-excuse me?" He murmured, his voice quiet and fearful. Pepper smiled. 

"Merry Christmas, Bruce," she murmured, "I forgot to get you a gift, though. Will I do?"

Bruce was quiet for so long that Pepper began to fear; what if she was pushing him? She knew she was rushing, but she had wanted this for so long, and she was already over thirty, and...and had she done this wrong? He was clearly hesitant in relationships; what if she'd just ruined the best thing she'd ever had...?

"You're more than enough," Bruce said. "But...I'm afraid if S.H.I.E.L.D. knows that, they'll take it all away from me—from _us."_

He had a point, though Pepper hated it. 

Then he turned her around and kissed her, slow and sweet and loving, holding her close.

"I can live with a bit of risk," he said, his eyes twinkling. 

Pepper nodded, numb. Bruce stroked her hair, considering.

"We'll have to hold out on the wedding for a bit, until we've got our affairs in order, but it'll be more satisfying that way, don't you think?" He said. "After all, we wouldn't want to rush into things, now would we?"

Pepper threw her arms around him and kissed him back for what felt like hours in response, the two of them warm against each other. She could feel him stir, and for a second, she tensed; the serum was at home, but she still wanted...

"It's okay," Bruce murmured. "He likes you. He won't ever hurt you. And...neither will I. You've given me enough confidence to know that."

Pepper whimpered, smiling through the tears that had gathered at the corners of her eyes. Bruce kissed them away before holding her close, undressing her with care and love.

She had waited all her life for a man like this, she could only think as he treated her with gentle love and attention, his devotion evident. She had spent too much time alone, or with men who only wanted to use her, to gain something from her. Bruce gave her everything, offered himself up, vulnerable and exposed, and she could only give him everything in return.

She had no regrets—except, perhaps, that she had not found him sooner. But she knew thar she, like Tony, had waited all her life to be with the man before her, holding her naked body with adoration and passion; thirty-one years was well worth the wait.

Bruce made love to her that night, no trace of serum echoing in his veins. She moaned and gasped and cried, begging for everything he could give; instead of engagement rings, they kissed vows into each others' skin, making them both shudder and cry for more, the rings of reddened, sensitive flesh aching in tandem as they met each other, bonded and complete.

Well into the night, a green light sparked in Bruce's eyes; Pepper tensed, worried, before she felt Bruce kiss her cheek. A little growl of triumph left his lips.

"Ours," the Hulk said, speaking through Bruce's soft lips. "But private time...private time is for Banner."

Pepper couldn't help it; she laughed, and whichever of her lovers laughed with her, they kissed her as well, so she didn't mind either way.

... 

The next morning, Pepper and Phil saw everyone organized and ready, trundling back through airport security and onto another plane ride home. Steve didn't like the fact that they were spending most of Christmas Eve on a plane ride, but Tony reassured him they'd get at least a little time to spend together on the couch, watching one of the kitschy holiday specials Steve had taken to like a fish to water.

They all crashed this time, sleeping through most of the plane ride; Pepper worried for a moment about when to tell Steve about Tony's appointment, but reminded herself that Steve had waited about seven decades to have Christmas again, and he would enjoy it with Tony as long as she had something to say about it. The man had been through enough; she wasn't eager to make much more trouble in his life.

Thor looked out the window as the plane soared forward, gazing upon the clouds before him with interest. This was such a strange metal beast...but this view above the clouds was magnificent. He wondered how much closer he was to his realm from here; how much farther would the stars need reach to bring him home?

Not far; the stars had loved him, sat upon his brow, and glimmered before him, eager for his favor. He could return at any time.

But there were those that needed him.

The fragile creatures before him, all resting peacefully, entwined in one another, bodies meeting in warm valleys, cradling against each other...they needed him. They could fight, but if he was beside them, they would fight all the harder, all the better.

But _Loki.._.

Thor could return home, remain beloved of his family, assume the throne, have all the realms praising his name—the mighty Aesir king, he who was worthy.

And yet, if he did, it would be Loki he left behind. These humans, fragile and mighty all at once, they would grieve him but they would survive without him, flourishing strong without his strength.

But _Loki.._.

Loki would rot in the bowels of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s chrome hells forever, and Thor would lose him. His brother would never be brought back home, where he belonged, borne on the backs of all the stars that ought to bow before him. 

He had to stay. Even looking up at the sky and aching for freedom, for home...he had to stay.

Thor sighed, but there was a small smile on his face as he settled in and watched over his team. There was not much time left, but he would enjoy the remainder of their peace regardless—and hope one day he could provide the same for Loki.

...

A few hours later, Phil woke them all up, and the group moved slowly, blearily for home, trudging through customs and heading for the car. They all climbed in, Phil turning the keys and setting them off on a course for home.

It was slow and peaceful as the snow fell over the city; Steve watched it fall with a small smile on his face, holding Tony tucked beneath the crook of his arm. Tony yawned and grunted in annoyance, but only until he made himself comfortable, snuggled even closer, his face buried into Steve's chest. Steve chuckled, stroking his hair.

He carried Tony in, their suitcases hanging off his other arm, and set the suitcases down in the foyer before settling Tony in on the couch. 

Steve took a few minutes to start another pot of cocoa on the stove, plug the lights on the tree in, and settle the last few presents under the tree before going to get a blanket from his bedroom. Then, as quietly as he could so as not to disturb Tony, he went back into the living room, climbed onto the couch, and wrapped a blanket around them both as he grabbed the remote and turned on the television, settling in content for a marathon of ridiculously cheesy Christmas specials.

Steve smiled, content. Tony just snuggled a little closer, snoring softly. Steve didn't mind him resting; he understood. Christmas had never been something that Tony had appreciated...he had told Steve as much in every hesitant flinch at the decorating, in the quiet, almost restrained way he presided over everything, largely allowing Steve to do as he liked. This wasn't something Tony much enjoyed...

But hopefully, with luck, tomorrow he could make it that way.

Steve fell asleep that night to the television thrumming in his ears, a contented smile across his face. As he slept peacefully, the others began to creep in, settling in around the Christmas tree, one by one, until everyone had passed out in the living room, eagerly awaiting Christmas.

...

The next morning, Tony awoke to an enormous breakfast and his lover smiling at him, holding a tray full up of breakfast food before him. 

"Hey, sweetheart," Steve said warmly. "Merry Christmas. I'm glad you're awake."

"Anyone else?" Tony asked with a yawn. Steve shook his head.

"Nope," he replied. "For a little while, it's just us. Come and have your breakfast with me?"

"Sure, of course..." Tony agreed, stretching out and yawning, wriggling his toes in his socks and getting up off the couch, padding off after Steve and settling in at the dining room table. Steve set his breakfast down before him before going to make his own; as his lover prepared his breakfast, Tony watched the sun rising over New York, coffee in hand.

It was so much more peaceful when it snowed. That seemed to contribute to the quiet, even in the mansion; normally, the whole place whirred with constant electrical currents and a vibrancy that made even the quiet times a bit undercut by the constant hum of machinery, but now...

It was entirely still and silent inside _and_ out, which Tony found he rather liked. It was quite quiet now, an idyllic peace birthed largely from the pillow of snow that had covered New York, smothering the sounds of all its mechanical cries; the cars, the honking horns, and the constant buzz of humanity. 

Tony hummed, content, and sipped his coffee. It was a rather nice wake-up call, to be honest. As Steve entered the room with his own tray of breakfast, settling in across from Tony and toying with Tony's feet gently, rubbing them with his own to keep them warm, the other man grinned, took a bite of his bagel to keep Steve appeased about his food intake, and decided this was an even better kind of morning summons.

Steve was nothing if not an excellent cook; Tony devoured everything before him, chattering on in between bites. Steve smiled, watching him eat and taking bites here and there, more content to listen to Tony. When he had cleared his plate and smiled up at Steve, content, Steve finally felt free to devour the rest, letting himself finish quickly before looking up at Tony.

"So, Tony; ready to go open presents?" Steve asked. Tony smiled.

"Sure, soon," he agreed, "but right now they're re-airing Rudolph, and I know that you really liked that one. We can enjoy ourselves together first."

Steve brightened up, meeting Tony at the door and sweeping him into a hug, picking him up and cradling his lover as they went back into the living room together, to settle down and wait for the others.

"It's nice to have some time to ourselves," Tony said. "And...y'know. To celebrate Christmas with just you. My family, I mean...well, it'll be fun with everyone. But you were the one who made me see that in the first place. So...y'know, thanks. I love you, babe. Merry Christmas."

Steve's throat had suddenly grown rather tight, tears welling around the corners as he kissed the top of Tony's head.

"Love you too, Tony," he murmured. "Merry Christmas. I'm proud I was the one who gave that to you."

Tony smiled and snuggled up against him, settling in content as Steve turned the television back on.

Everyone else awoke in degrees, stirring and looking about, yawning widely. Steve watched as Phil sat up, grimacing as he stretched out and sighed, his bones re-affirming themselves as he stood up. 

"Morning, Cap," he mumbled. "Merry Christmas."

"Same to you, Phil. There's breakfast on the stove if you'd like it," Steve said. "Just be careful, I think we need to re-make the coffee."

"I'll put another pot on," Phil agreed, making sure Clint and Natasha were awake and knew he was going to make breakfast before heading into the kitchen. They both stirred, looking about, faint smiles on their faces.

"It is...good to know it will be another nice Christmas," Natasha said. "Not that I did not trust our Coulson, but I...well, I feared, regardless. I didn't want last year's to be a mere fluke."

"Phil wouldn't let it be," Steve promised her. "He threw himself into planning this as much as I did; he loves Christmas, and he loves the two of you. He'd make sure you got a good one, even if it meant midnight shopping runs on Christmas Eve."

"Love him," Clint mumbled into the pillows, still half-asleep, "dunno what we'd do without him. Y'know? He's our Coulson."  
"Yes, he is," Steve agreed with a smile. "And you are not very awake right now, are you?"

"Nope!" Clint announced, snuggling his pillows. Steve chuckled, stroking Tony's hair as he watched Phil bustle in with food, settling the tray down beside both his lovers and giving them both good morning kisses. Clint was awake enough for those, Steve noticed.

Pepper and Bruce awoke after, stretching out languidly before cuddling back into each other, planting soft kisses on each others' faces and shoulders.

"Be up in a sec," Pepper promised, in between a few soft nibbles to her bottom lip, "did we get breakfast started?"

"Yes, we did," Steve said. "There's food if you'd like it. And Tony's fine, before you start fussing; don't worry about anything today, Pepper. Please. It's your Christmas too."

"Right, right," Pepper replied, an absent tone to her voice as she sat up and ran a hand through her hair, toying with Bruce's curls. "Babe, are you awake enough for breakfast?"

Bruce yawned, burying his face into her shoulder and considering it. 

"Steve cook?" He asked, his voice slurred and sleepy. Steve nodded; Bruce hummed in reply, content. "Good," he enthused. "Okay, awake enough."

"Honey, rest if you'd like. It's Christmas," Pepper reminded him, her voice gentle as she put his head in her lap, stroking his hair. "You don't need to work or do anything important today."

"If I'm not awake, I'm not with you," Bruce said, "and that's important every day, isn't it?"

Pepper smiled, big and goofy and genuine, as Bruce leaned up to give her a kiss. 

The others had begun to set themselves at rights; Thor got up, yawning widely, and stretched out on the couch, falling off gracefully and shaking himself off, like a lion knocked off his place on the sunning rock. Clint and Natasha awoke enough to eat, perusing their stockings and sharing their candy with Coulson, who nibbled at the treats and gave them chocolate kisses, sweet and warm. Tony had vaccuum-sealed himself against Steve, using him as a second couch while they watched television. 

The tree twinkled nearby, as if inviting them to open presents; it took them awhile, however, since they had all decided on breakfast first. It was pleasant; talking, nibbling away, food and kisses being traded in sweet, easy shares. Eventually, though, Bruce finally handed Pepper a gift, which sparked it all off.

Tony had given everyone what they expected; lavish, gorgeous technological gifts. Clint got an automated reloading quiver with a stock that could hold up to six hundred arrows that would go from the size of a needle to arrowlength when removed from the quiver chamber, allowing for more of them in a single quiver, along with a shiny new bow. Natasha got stinger upgrades, with chambers for different kinds of stun-capsules or venom. 

Bruce got a kid's chemistry set—when he rolled his eyes at Tony and opened it, the box had a lead-lined interior and a nugget of vibranium in it. He probably would've kissed Tony if he hadn't been too far away, so he pulled Pepper in for one instead. She enjoyed it more anyway, (not that Tony would have complained.)

Coulson just smiled and gave Tony a knowing look when Tony's gift turned out to be a vintage collection of all the Captain America USO show programs, alongside a group of assorted big band records Coulson had never even heard of, let alone owned. Tony grinned at the look on his face.

Pepper got a crate full of chocolates and liquor, which didn't seem to faze her—she figured, dealing with the Avengers for the rest of the forseeable future, she would need them, and Tony seemed to agree. What was resting on top of the crate concerned her more; a beautiful set of rings, simple enough to be worn discreetly until they would be replaced with something more personal. Pinned to the box was a simple note.

_"For the two of you. P.S.; dibs on best man."_

He couldn't have possibly known. But he wanted them happy enough to hope.

Pepper gave him a kiss, throwing her arms around him and whispering in his ear, "You can have best man, Tony."

He beamed, ruffling her hair and giving Bruce a quick thumbs-up; they'd talk more later, when everything was settled and life could resume as normal.

Thor's gift made Coulson cringe; another crate, this time full of pop-tarts, along with a tiny box with holes. Boxes with holes never ended well.

"It's not gonna get big enough to ride," Tony said, "mostly because I didn't have the time to put together something to genetically engineer that. Also I think Pepper might actually kill me. So, uh...y'know..."

Thor lifted the lid off the box and laughed, genuine joy for the first time in a long while mixing into his voice as he lifted a single enormous hand in and removed it with a tiny ball of fluff sleeping content in his palm.

"I'm still going to kill you," Pepper said. "Do you know how much those eat?"

"And do you know how much I make a year? Shush, we can handle a damn cat. JARVIS has already been programmed not to let him down into the lab, and the bots won't bother him. We can feed him, it's fine." Tony retorted. Pepper groaned, but she had nowhere to argue and knew it; Tony was going to be ridiculously stubborn about this.

"He is a fine creature," Thor said, his voice warm and tender. "He will grow up mighty one day, I am certain."

"Yeah, Maine Coon cats get damn huge. He's going to be fluffy as hell, too," Tony said with a smirk. "He reminded me of you."

Thor ran a hand down the cat's flank; it made an odd, rumbling 'prrp' and looked up at him, big blue eyes observing him, curious. He was like a splot of ink given three dimensions; blacker than the stroke of midnight and fluffy enough that his paws were almost entirely lost in his body as he crouched. 

It mewed at him and Thor beamed, stroking him again. The cat regarded him with big, sweet eyes—then gripped his thumb and began to nibble it.

They all raised an eyebrow, a bit nervous. However, to everyone's surprise, Thor just laughed, picking the kitten up and regarding him, amused.

"I have dealt with those I love doing far worse to me than nipping my thumb, little one," he said. "You shall have to try better than that."

The kitten curled up in his palm and purred before falling back asleep. 

"Or perhaps there is hope for you yet," Thor murmured, and they all got the feeling he wasn't talking about the cat. "In any case, little one, I suppose my brother might get cross if I name a beast after him. Then I shall never hear the end of all his whining." Thor chuckled, but there was something in his eyes that made everyone else wince.

"I will call you Midnight," Thor announced. "I know it may not be the most grand or original of names, but it was his favorite time; the only time I might join him in the library and see my brother as he was, rather than how he pretended to be for my sake. For my father's sake."

The cat continued to purr, unawares. Thor looked up at Tony, his eyes dark but his smile, at least, genuine.

"Anthony, thank you," he murmured. "It is a boon I am most grateful for."

"No...no prob, bud. Glad you like it," Tony said. "Are you okay?"

"As well as can be said," Thor agreed. "All will be well. Loki will return to me soon. For now, I have Midnight. And the memories."

No one knew what to say, but they all clustered around Thor, cuddling him fiercely as they opened the rest of their gifts.

The things from everyone else were simple and small, but highly personal; everyone cried a little bit, though they'd never admit it. Bruce got chamomile and a book of T.S. Eliot from Pepper, with a note tucked inside, _"For future rainy days_."

Natasha and Clint had gotten Coulson a luxurious herbal heating pad for his migraines; they had received from him a stack of books and a copy of _Disney's Robin Hood_ , respectively. Clint stuck out his tongue, but he had kissed Coulson, then, laughing.

Coulson had a breakdown when Steve handed him his binder of neatly arranged trading cards, all of them signed; he just hugged Steve tight and didn't let go for a good five minutes.

On the last one in the binder was inscribed the words " _You're my hero, Phil,_ " in short, fine font.

Phil would not have an emotional breakdown over trading cards. He would not.

Steve just smiled at him, and Phil admitted, he sniffled a little. His lovers just smiled, snuggling close.

Everyone had given each other their gifts, save for Tony's gift to Steve. He didn't say anything—he knew whatever it was, Tony would give it to him on his own time. 

Finally, though, Tony laid something in his lap. Steve looked at the enormous box, curious. Tony just smiled.

"I finally finished it," he said. "Y'know, just in case."

Steve opened up the box to reveal a glistening, shimmering metal shield that caught the light and twinkled beneath the glow of the Christmas tree; he sucked in a sharp breath, shocked, as he held it up.

"This is...the one you built me, right?" He murmured. "Tony, oh..."

"Glad you like it," Tony said, amused. "There's nothing that can replace the good ol' vibranium death disc that dad made, but hey. Never hurts to have a spare—"

Before he could continue, Steve had yanked him into a kiss, warm and loving and passionate. Tony just melted into his embrace again, Steve's soft, peppermint-laced breath mingling with his own and making him sigh into his warm, silky lips. Steve grinned into the kiss, pulling away slowly.

"Thank you, darling," he murmured. "It's the best gift you could've given me."

"We'll see about that," Tony purred in reply, but Steve didn't hear him, turning back to the others to talk about what they were doing for dinner. Tony didn't mind. Steve would learn about his other gift soon enough.

...

The middle of the day came along, slow and easy, like a quiet river; everyone remained in the living room, watching Christmas movies on television and snuggling up in a warm pile of muscle, fluff, and ridiculous sweaters. (Everyone had gotten one, and there was no tag on any of the boxes, but they all knew it was Tony.)

Steve spent the whole time cuddled on the couch, tracing the rim of the reactor carefully, occasionally skating the surface with his well-worn, warm fingers. Tony hummed, curling closer so Steve knew he appreciated every touch. Steve smiled, nuzzling Tony's cheek.

Eventually, when the clock struck four and Steve stretched out, he realized that he really ought to start dinner; the turkey needed to get put in the oven, and he could put the rest together as well. 

He gave Tony a quick, sweet kiss before slipping into the kitchen, letting the others take his place, snuggling up around Tony. Steve smiled, knowing his lover would be just fine as he began to put everything together; Phil followed after him a few minutes later, giving him a small smile.

"Captain, I can cook, you know," he said. "You handle the turkey. I'll start on the potatoes. And vegetables, though Clint will complain." He huffed, amused. "You don't need to do everything, okay?"

"Yes, I...thank you, Phil," Steve said, a small smile on his face. "I could use some help, actually."

The two of them began to put everything together, cooking what they could and getting everything in order. Tony started a fire in the fireplace; it crackled cheerfully as they worked, and the holiday music JARVIS put on as well lended a sort of sweetly nostalgic air to everything.

Everyone else lounged about while both Steve and Phil tended to dinner, content; Thor played with Midnight and Bruce read to Pepper quietly, the two of them curled up under a warm blanket and practically sealed against each others' skin. Clint and Natasha were snuggled together on the couch, their eyes half-closed as they watched a Christmas movie.

Tony sat on the floor, fiddling with his tablet as Dummy and You sat on either side of him, occasionally beeping with happiness. Tony adjusted Dummy's Santa hat and kept working, a smile on his face.

The day wound past slowly; Midnight promptly settled himself in among everyone, spending time with each Avenger, being a helpful purr machine for petting and cuddles. Finally, as the night fell over them, soft and easy and sprinkled with stars, Steve called them in for dinner.

Everyone ate, chattering eagerly and digging in, sharing and teasing and spending time with each other. It was wonderful, in a warmly-lit, well-cooked way. Tony sat on Steve's lap and fed him bites, receiving them in return; the two held each other and smiled all throughout dinner.

Eventually, after a few more movies and sharing boxes of chocolate, everyone tucked themselves in, trading hugs before heading into their rooms.

Tony locked the door and immediately began to strip, tossing his clothing aside and climbing onto the bed, kicking himself out of everything except his briefs.

"...Tony?" Steve murmured. Tony beamed, curling up on the bed and spreading his legs. Steve looked away, hunching his shoulders. "Is...is this my Christmas present?"

"Depends on if you want it," Tony purred. "Or how you want it. C'mere, babe. I need you."

"Isn't this _my_ Christmas present?" Steve teased. Tony rolled his eyes as he rolled his hips, and Steve's tongue was like lead in his throat as he came to bed, covering Tony's body with his own as Tony scrambled to rip off his clothing. Steve inched out of his sweater carefully; it was silly, but he had a fondness for it, and knowing Tony had chosen it helped further that.

Eventually, he was entwined within Tony, their arms winding together and their legs meshing, Steve leaning over his lover and smiling. Tony's eyes shone, his lips glistening as he parted them, panting with eager desire as he laid beneath Steve, eagerly awaiting him.

Tony moaned as Steve began to kiss his neck, peppering it lightly with gentle laves of his tongue and soft sighs against heated skin. He was _eager_ , so deliciously eager, and Steve was kissing him, Steve made him want, _Steve.._.

Steve kissed his way down Tony's chest before blushing lightly, nuzzling Tony's bulge hesitantly. Tony groaned, spreading his legs wider.

"Honey?" Steve asked. "Honey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah...I'm so good, really, I promise..." Tony exhaled sharply, a bright grin on his face. "C'mon, babe, please?"

"Tony, the reactor's glowing...not like it normally does, either. Please hold on, I need to check it." Steve said.

Tony cried out in frustration as Steve asked, "JARVIS? Is the reactor all right?"

 _"...Negative, sir,"_ JARVIS said _. "Overstimulation of the heart might cause further soreness around the chest wounds, and delay healing up to a month."_

Tony just stared up at the ceiling blankly, entirely devoid of hope. He was never going to get fucked by Steve.

Then he felt his lover tugging at his briefs.

Tony groaned in ecstasy, bucking up in encouragement as Steve stripped him, averting his eyes, his shoulders sagging as he removed his own briefs.

"No sex," he said, and Tony wanted to scream until Steve finished, "but, uh...it's...pretty cold out. How about...cuddling for warmth?"

It was almost seventy-five degrees in his room, but Tony gave Steve the gold star for effort regarding pick up lines. He was Captain America, to be fair.

"Sure, babe," Tony said, cuddling against him. "Touch me, please?"

"Of course," Steve murmured, running his hands over his hips and massaging his stomach before kissing his shoulderblades and pulling Tony close, hugging him protectively as Tony practically purred with delight.

"Your body's beautiful," Steve promised into his skin. "Don't worry. I want you, I promise."

Tony just nodded, laying against his lover's broad chest. In time. He could wait. He figured, anyway.

"Merry Christmas," Tony murmured. "Love you."

"Love you too, Tony," Steve replied, giving him a slow, sweet kiss before he fell asleep beside him, the picture of contented ease.

Tony just closed his eyes and tried to focus on the warmth of Steve's erection against him, comforting himself with what had to come at some point. For now...cuddling was all right. At least with Steve.


	116. Surgery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They try to fix things. Whether it works remains to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this really, really truly, starts off the last sequence of events within the story. I think. I am mostly sure. That's up for debate. But this is MEANT to do that.  
> P.S., regarding the last chapter; no, Bruce isn't fertile, but let the man dream. It'll be much more fun to break him later.

The next morning, Tony was awoken by JARVIS in his ear, "Athena is here to see you, Tony," and tensed immediately. Steve stirred, waking up when he felt Tony's twitch of shock.

"Mmhuh?" He asked, his mouth heavy and clumsy with sleep. "Tony, what's wrong?"

"Athena's here," he murmured. "Dunno why, but she is..."

 _"S.H.I.E.L.D. scheduled an appointment; Ms. Potts meant to tell you, but she wasn't anticipating Athena this early, and she didn't want to spoil your Christmas with Steven_ ," JARVIS explained. Tony sighed, nodding as he got up out of bed, stretching out and going to dress. Steve remained in bed, tense.

"Babe, it's okay," Tony said, "it's just Athena. Hopefully she'll give me an all-clear and we can finally stop worrying about my heart."

"I hope so," Steve said, "I'd love not to have to worry when I touch you. But I'm patient, Tony, and I know you will be too, right?"

"Yeah, yeah..." Tony sighed, pulling a shirt on. "Get dressed, okay? I'd like it if you came with me when she checks me over."

"Oh, of course!" Steve said, getting out of bed and kissing Tony's back as he passed him, cupping his ass with a single huge hand as he went to go change. Tony grinned with relief. 

The two of them dressed, Steve pulling Tony into a quick kiss before they headed downstairs. Athena was waiting for them at the kitchen table, a black medical bag beside her.

"Strip," she said, pointing at Tony, and he chuckled, sitting on the table.

"Most women let me get a few words in edgewise first, but all right," he said. "If you insist."

Steve groaned, starting a pot of coffee; Athena just rolled her eyes as Tony took off his shirt, exposing the reactor to the room. 

"It was glowing oddly last night," Steve piped up. "Tony and I have tried being...well, intimate...and it always seems to act up."

Athena's jaw twitched for a second, but it was gone before Tony could say anything; she just nodded, professional and cool as she touched the glowing center.

"Heart rate probably makes this thing do double-time, and considering we don't know what fucked with your reactor...it's probably a safe bet it's still wounded," Athena sighed, taking out a sheaf of papers.

"We did run some tests, but we have very little on the Mandarin; all we can tell right now is the wounds were deep, and the magic that blasted open the reactor managed to fry your systems. Really, my best advice is rebuild the reactor now that you're on your feet and can do labwork. If you rebuild an entirely new reactor and rim system, we can get you out on the field. Minor stuff at first, but eventually, you'll be good as new," Athena said. Tony nodded.

"It'll require surgery; for the rim and inner workings, at least," Tony said. "You're the only person in S.H.I.E.L.D. I trust to do it without secretly maiming me. Can you?"

Athena blinked, her shoulders jumping and her eyes widening with surprise.

"Er, of course," she said. "I'll need x-rays of your anatomy and instructions from you to proceed, though."

"You'll have them by tomorrow," Tony said, "and a new reactor, too. I want this over with, Athena."

"I know, Tony," she said. "Steve, are you okay with him having surgery that soon?"

Steve sighed, putting his mug down with shaking hands.

"I'm not happy he needs surgery," Steve said, "but...if it keeps him safe and gets him healed faster, yes. I can handle it. So long as I'm allowed in."

"Of course," Athena replied. Tony frowned.

"It's okay, really," he told her, "Steve can survive with me having surgery."

"Yes, Tony, but he's worried," Athena said. "I just want to make sure he knows what's going on."

"Yeah, I know, but I'm not a child, god damn," Tony groaned. "It's not important; just be back here tomorrow and I'll have everything set up for you, okay?"

"Of course," Athena said, a bit worried about the shift in his tone but keeping that to herself, rather prudently, "I'll see you then, Stark."

"Great. Thanks, Athena. This'll all be sorted out tomorrow, don't worry," Tony promised. 

She didn't quite believe him, but she didn't have a choice; she nodded curtly and left, taking her bag with her. Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm not a child," he snapped. "I don't need your _permission_ to get surgery, damn it!"

"Tony, I know," Steve said, "it's just her way of letting me know what's going on. Don't worry. I'd never think you were incapable of making the choice yourself. I'd just...like to know."

"Sorry," Tony said with a quiet sigh. "Didn't mean to. I just...would rather...y'know. You don't need to fuss all the time."

"I like doing it," Steve replied, "but you're right. You make the best decisions for yourself, and I'll support you."

Tony smiled and hugged him, kissing his neck.

"Okay," he murmured. "Thank you. Love you."

"Love you too, Tony," Steve said, holding him close. "Why don't we head downstairs so you can start blueprints? I'll make breakfast once you're settled."

"That'd be great, thanks," Tony said. "C'mon, Steve."

The two of them walked down into the lab, hand in hand and side by side.  
...

JARVIS booted back up as soon as they entered, throwing an eerie light around the whole lab as Tony frowned, making his way to the main work table.

"Buddy, I'm gonna need all the blueprints of the reactor and the chest shots up on the screens, okay?" Tony said. "Just gotta get this all together so I can see what has to be done."

" _Of course, sir,_ " JARVIS said. " _What about current photographs and X-rays?"_

"Oh, yeah, those too," Tony said. "Steve, can you do me a big favor and organize the old pictures while JARVIS takes new ones? I just need you to organize them by X-rays and external photographs; it's all touch interface, I know you can do that."

"Of course, Tony, and I wouldn't mind at all," Steve replied, giving his shoulder a quick kiss before cupping his lover's bottom and nudging him away to go get his pictures taken;  Tony grinned, waggling his fingers playfully at him for a second, totally at ease, before turning around to JARVIS. 

"Okay, buddy, need the external ones first; I'll get the lead-lined wrap for the X-rays after that." Tony promised. JARVIS whirred.

" _Of course, sir; please hold still,_ " he said, and for once, as a blue light enamated over his body, focusing in a thin, constant blue line down his body, coursing over his skin, coming to a stop for long gaps of time when it reached his reactor, scanning that for what felt like ten minutes. Steve watched out of the corner of his eye, concerned, as he organized the photographs. 

Seeing Tony's body laid out like it was in the photographs unnerved Steve; it wasn't the chest he knew, flushed with vitality and passion, with love for his soulmate. It was a battered, bruised, scar-laden chest that was waxy and pale, an eerie blue cast surrounding the hollows and war wounds that marked the dull skin. This was Tony fresh from Afghanistan, not his Tony, tucked away warm and safe. 

This was his sacrifice, Steve realized; this was what Tony had come back as, a shambling mess, surely, but _alive_. He had endured what had obviously been unimaginable tortures to return home, to continue living, because Steve would need him someday. That had been enough to get him through Afghanistan. That had been enough to keep his heart going. It wasn't just the reactor that saved Tony; it was Steve. It had always been Steve. And the proof of that was in every scar Tony had taken onto his body in his name.

Steve cried out quietly despite himself, his hands shaking as he pulled them away from the pictures, the reality of Tony's love and devotion laid stark and cold before him. 

Tony jumped with shock as the machine whirred down, his photographs taken, only to find his lover had bundled him into his arms not a split second after, holding him close and trembling as he did, his hands gripping Tony so tight he felt like all the love and strength inherent within was going to make him burst.

"You did all that to come home to me," Steve whispered, and Tony could feel his hands shaking, but the strength remained firm. "You came back to me, my Tony. Even before you were sure I'd come back to _you._ Thank you. Thank you. My brave soldier. I love you, sweetheart."

Tony relaxed in his embrace, wriggling around in it to peck Steve's lips, giving him a warm, goofy grin.

"Hey, love you too, babe," he promised. "Don't worry, okay? I'm here. I'll always be here. And I could never leave you, so tell me, how'd I manage to come back?"

Steve laughed, weak and watery, and kissed Tony's cheeks until they burned with wet and warmth, Steve's love spreading across his skin. 

"You're amazing," Steve whispered, tracing the reactor and running his hand over what now he knew lay beneath; the scars, the iron, the suffering, the strength. "Tony, you're so amazing. Inside and out."

"...Well, thanks, babe," Tony said, cupping his cheek and stroking his hair with his free hand. "You're pretty hot yourself, I must say. Inside _and_ out." He teased. Steve laughed again, a bit stronger this time, and nuzzled Tony's cheek before the other man patted him on the shoulder.

"Wanna help me find that lead-lined wrap thing? I gotta take X-rays, and I'd rather not get cancer from it," he said. Steve nodded, giving him a quick kiss.

"Of course, Tony. The pictures are all arranged for when you're done," he said. Tony nodded.

"Okay, good; JARVIS? You heard the man. Do me a favor and make sure the new photographs in each category are organized with Steve's. No need to ruin his good work, huh?" He said. Steve blushed; JARVIS hummed.

 _"Of course, Anthony,_ " he said. " _And I believe the lead wrap is beneath your third desk_."

"Huh," Tony said, rifling through it and pulling out an enormous black sheet, "so it is. Hang on, I'll put it on; ready up the X-ray."

Steve helped him into it before stepping back and allowing the purplish light to run over Tony's chest, spending extra care on his upper abdomen and sternum; no surprise, considering what had occured, but it made Steve nervous all the same.

Tony took the wrap off as the light dimmed, sighing with relief as the pictures began to process. He went over to his main desk, looking at what lay before him; Steve got him a notebook for making references and he kissed his lover in thanks, warm and syrupy-sweet. 

For about two hours, Tony took notes; Steve made him breakfast, explained the situation to the others as quickly as he could, then retired downstairs immediately to go tend to Tony, breakfast tray in hand. He made sure Tony ate in between analyzing the current reactor versus his pre-injury reactor pieces, though Tony whined all the way through every bite. 

After another hour of work, Tony turned to him, taking Steve's hand and holding it tight. Steve squeezed it, more nervous than he would have liked to have let on.

"It's not as bad as I thought," Tony began, "but I'll need to build an entirely new rim and internal tubing system. That said, the reactor itself is fine, and that's the real heavy lifting engineering-wise anyway, so there's that. It's got a ton of energy, in fact; it's just not being processed correctly. As to why, I can't say I know; must be whatever the Mandarin did to me."

"I'll flay him," Steve said, his bearing deceptively relaxed and his eyes sharply sweet, like bitter almonds. "Don't worry, Tony. I'll protect you."

Tony gave him a long, hard look, reminding himself in that moment that he had, in fact, found a soldier for a soulmate. The good man was the man he was going to marry, to remain with for as long as he lived; the soldier was the man he was going to fight beside, to have to defend and protect for as long as he lived. The soldier was a scary man, sometimes.

In the end, though, it was still Steve. It was always Steve. And so Tony nodded, cupping his cheeks and pulling Steve in for a kiss, tongues tangling and their breath warm against each others' soft, familiar lips, their hands finding grips in each others' bodies as they comforted one another for a time.

Tony pulled away with a reluctant frown, licking his lips and looking at Steve.

"Gonna need the rest of the day to do the rim and tubing," he said. "You mind staying down here?"

"With you?" Steve chuckled. "No, Tony, never. I'll go get my sketchbook and we'll have a nice day together."

Tony smiled, nodding in agreement as Steve went upstairs quickly, going to fetch his sketchbook—and some snacks to bring down with him. 

For the rest of the day, Steve sat on a stool nearby Tony and made quick pencil sketches in long, languid strokes of everything Tony did. While he did that, Tony worked on the rim and tubing that would keep him alive and well, and for a little while, they knew peace. 

...

That peace was not found come tomorrow, unfortunately. When tomorrow came knocking at their door, Steve found himself staring at a sleep-deprived Tony, bags beneath his eyes and his hands shaking as he steadied himself on the counter, yawning. He held Tony tight, clinging to him as best as he could, doing his best to soothe his lover, stroking his hair and petting him soothingly, running his hands down his back.

They didn't have much time to try that; within ten minutes, they heard a knock on the door, and JARVIS' voice intoned, " _Athena is here for the surgery, Anthony."_

"Right," Tony said, his voice shaking just a little, "let her in, JARV."

The door opened, and they heard the click of heels; Athena stood in the door, her black medical bag in her hand.

"You know, I shouldn't be doing this alone," she said. "If you really don't trust anyone else..."

"I don't," Tony confirmed, clinging tighter to Steve. "You're the only one of them I trust. Except for Phil and Clint, of course."

"But what about Natasha?" Steve asked. Tony snorted.

"I trust her not to kill me and that's nebulous on a bad day, which is about it," Tony replied. "That woman seems to enjoy messing with me."

"You _are_ adorable when your feathers are ruffled, Tony," Steve said, grinning down at Tony. In response, Tony elbowed him lightly in the stomach; Steve laughed and kissed the back of his neck, holding Tony close around his waist.

Athena didn't say anything for a minute, letting the two of them have a moment to comfort one another. Finally, Steve said with a quiet sigh, "Where is he going to need to be, doctor?"

"Nowhere special, Steve," Athena replied. "Down in the lab. I assume there's a sterile table to spare?"

Tony nodded, and Athena hefted her bag up, giving them both a good, long look.

"The recovery time is going to be around two weeks to a month," she said, "Tony should accept the transplant just fine, since it's like his old one, but it's going to be dangerous to go out on patrol for awhile, Stark. Fury's okayed this as a necessary evil, basically...but don't be surprised if they start pushing you after a week." 

"All right," Tony agreed. "Not surprised right now, really. You know, honestly, I'm kind of sick of sitting around the house. Could use some exercise."

"Later," Athena said, "Steve, I'll herd him downstairs; could you do me a favor and get the monitors and the rest of my equipment from the car? It's a hefty load, but I hoped you could bear it. If not, it's fine—"

"No, I can," Steve interrupted her. "I'll be quick. Don't worry, Tony; I'll be back soon. Athena, don't...y'know, don't...just don't, please."

Athena would've smiled, but she knew that fear, even if Steve couldn't force himself to say the words; he was scared, same as everyone else would've been. She just nodded.  
"I won't, Captain," she promised. "Be quick, though."

Steve nodded, and was gone in the blink of an eye. Athena sighed, beckoning to Tony as the two of them went downstairs into the lab, the sound of their footfalls echoing hollowly off the stairs.

...

Steve hefted the machines into his arms carefully, balancing them on top of one another and deciding two trips was a better option; the monitors were big and bulky, and if he dropped one, Tony would probably fix it, which meant another sleepless night and a delayed surgery. That convinced him to make two trips from the car and back, piling it all up in the foyer and bringing it downstairs bit by bit.

After about ten minutes, everything was set up properly; Athena sighed with relief, settling Tony in on the operating table. Tony's eye twitched, his jaw clenching, but he didn't so much as whimper as Athena loaded a syringe with anaesthesia.

Steve gripped Tony's hand and kissed his cheek, loving and tender as he cupped the warmth of Tony's hand in his own, aware of its weight, its vitality, and willing himself not to panic at the thought of its loss.

"Tony, honey, I'm not going to let go of your hand," Steve promised. "Not once."

"For the whole time?" Tony asked. Steve smiled, giving his forehead a kiss, wiping away the single tear beading up at the crest of his eye.

"For the whole time," Steve replied, stroking his hair. "I'll be right here. Even when you can't feel it, your hand is going to be in mine."

Tony nodded just as Athena sunk the syringe into his arm, grateful for the distraction—for Tony's sake and her own. Steve stroked his hair until Tony went under; he gave him another quick kiss before looking up at Athena, who was setting the parts of the reactor onto a nearby table.

"Be careful," Steve said. "Please. He's my everything."

"For your sake," Athena whispered, so quietly he didn't hear, "if nothing else, Captain."

Without another word, she brought down the scalpel.

Steve didn't look away as Athena performed the surgery. He didn't flinch when Tony's blood leaked over his hand. He didn't cry when Athena removed the inner rim, holding it up bloodied and mangled as she did her best to put the newly-built one back in as quickly and efficiently as possible, so as not to cause harm to Tony. He didn't twitch when she removed the tubing pieces, one by one, and re-adjusted him to the brand new ones. 

Steve was quiet. Steve was like stone as he watched Tony beneath him, his skin pale and glistening with a faint sheen, his hair hanging against his head, limp. He looked like he had in all those photos, dead on his feet and aching for someone to save him. 

Steve couldn't. Not yet. But the surgery would. He just...had to make sure. 

So he watched, a silent guardian, like a steadfast dog, or a statue cast in marble; something that remained rooted firmly to his spot, regardless of what transpired. Mountains could have fallen as Tony got his surgery, and Steve would have remained among the rubble.

Athena finished up, a long eight hours later, stitching Tony up and washing the blood away. Steve looked up at her, inquistive; she sighed and ran a hand through her hair as she stripped out of her gloves and surgical scrubs..

"Give him another hour or so to stay under," she said. "Guy got knocked out pretty hard; didn't want him to wake up halfway through. I'll be back for check-ups every day until I know he's fit for active duty, all right?"

"Okay," Steve agreed. "Thank you, Athena. Thank you so much."

His voice was hoarse with its lack of use; still, it was praise from her Captain, and it warmed Athena down to the tips of her toes.

"You're welcome, Captain," she said.

Without warning, she threw her arms around him, allowing herself a moment to live a small fantasy. Steve blinked, shocked, but didn't protest; he just patted her head lightly before she detatched herself, shook her head, and grabbed her bag.

"I'll be back soon," she promised, "we can move Tony, though, I promise; he should be in bed anyway." 

The two of them managed to get him into a stretcher and upstairs. Athena didn't say anything, and after she had made sure Tony was prepared for bed, she just looked up at Steve, an odd sort of pleading in her eyes. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out, and she just shook her head, grabbing her bag again.

After that, she was gone, and Steve frowned, considering, as he looked down at Tony. He would have to be vigilant. Tony wasn't out of the woods yet, and he had to ensure that he would be safe for good; the thought of re-injuring his lover with carelessness terrified him. 

Steve curled up beside Tony and kissed his cheek, lying next to him and comforting himself with Tony's warmth as he reminded himself his lover was alive, and safe, and finally truly about to heal.


	117. The Last Discussion Before Something Excellent Happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last big talk before things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, part of my problem is trying to blend realistic (or, semi-realistic) therapy with not being fucking boring. Take it from someone who's had eight therapists and been in therapy for YEARS; this sort of shit does not, cannot, go away overnight. Repetition, repetition, repetition is key, but the problem is, no one fucking wants to read about repetition, myself honestly included. So if this chapter's a bit short, I hacked out huge chunks of it because honestly after a certain point I just can't keep repeating myself, even if that's how it works in real life, because novels are a different beast.  
> Anyways, some minor sexy stuff in the next chapter. I put it in mostly as an apology for like a lot of words and like no dicks at all, I'll be honest. Plus, due to some editing of aforementioned repetition and stuff, Tony's sort of cottoned on to certain concepts better, so 'taking it slow' means actually moving forward a bit for once.  
> So, enjoy!

The next two weeks or so consisted of Tony coming out of anaesthesia, being adorably loopy, and Steve doing his best to keep him in bed and keep him safe. It didn't always work, but it was the thought that counted; besides, Tony could usually be cajoled upstairs quickly enough, especially if Steve promised to watch a movie with him.

Working while he tried to take care of Tony grated on Steve's nerves; he couldn't help but feel like something was wrong every time he met with Fury or Commander Hill. He didn't know how to voice the innate sense of _wrongness_ that came with so many of the talks, but he knew it was there. He considered bringing it up to Coulson, but he managed to talk himself out of it every time; surely this was ridiculous, and Coulson, as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, would tell him so...right?

Steve huffed and massaged his temples as he came home, battered from patrol; a run-in with a few Doombots had proved unpleasant, and he'd been rather brutal, thinking only of the time Tony had been grievously harmed by Doom himself.

"Pizza okay? I don't think anyone's up for cooking tonight," Coulson said, hiding a yawn as he followed in after the team. "Tony okay, JARV?"

 _"He is fine, Philip, thank you; we've been doing a few minor things today, and he's remained entertained. I've placed an order for pizza, and it should be here in twenty minutes,"_ JARVIS replied. Phil grinned weakly.

"Thanks, JARVIS. Clint, Nat; shower. I'll meet you up there in a minute," Coulson looked over at Steve after he'd shooed his lovers upstairs and the other Avengers into the kitchen, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"You all right, Captain?" Coulson asked, keeping his voice gentle. "You seem like you've been handling work lately, but it just...doesn't feel like you sometimes. Is it Tony?"

Steve wanted to tell Coulson everything, but when he opened his mouth to try, he realized he didn't know the right words. 

"I...I don't know," he finally said. "Phil, I just...I want Tony to be better again."

"He will be; the surgery's recovery time is pretty mild, honestly, considering it was heart surgery. Give it another week and he'll be up and about. Another month and he'll be healed up, I promise. Until then...we're here for you, Captain, all right?" Coulson said, his voice gentle. Steve nodded, giving him a smile for the sake of his happiness. Phil beamed.

"We'll be fine, yes," Steve agreed. "C'mon. Let's go get ready for dinner."

And so the two did exactly that, words still churning in Steve's head as he left, insistent but unable to be spoken.

...

Steve kissed Tony later that night, nudging him gently into the shower. He wanted to talk to him about S.H.I.E.L.D.; he was worried. Tony just hummed, content, letting the water pour over his back.

"Tony...I'm really worried about S.H.I.E.L.D.," Steve confessed, taking his lover's hand and squeezing it for support. "Fury's just seemed...I don't know, different lately, for want of a better way to explain it..." He huffed and ran a hand through his sopping-wet hair. "I just don't know what to do. I'm worried I'm doing something wrong...or something's changed. And that means I have to adapt."

"Yeah, babe..." Tony sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. I wish I could be there for you; I hate being cooped up in the house all day. I miss being a hero."

"I know, Tony," Steve murmured, stroking his back. "It's not your fault, though. And you're not going to be anyone's hero if you're going out on the battlefield seriously injured."

"I know, I know..." Tony sighed and laid his head on Steve's shoulder. "When we go back out on the field, though, I want to go with you."

"And you will," Steve promised, giving his shoulder a kiss. "I'm not half as good at anything unless I'm doing it with you."

"So you do want sex," Tony said with a tiny smirk. Steve huffed, running a soapy, warm cloth over Tony's stomach.

"Tony, that's not the point right now," he admonished him. "You're still injured, and I need to talk."

"Fine..." Tony huffed. "Okay, babe. I'm listening. I'm apparently too fragile for a fucking, but I can listen."

"Tony, no—" Steve shook his head. "It isn't that you're fragile. I'm just too strong. I don't want to end up hurting you because I can't control my strength, not now, when you're still recovering from surgery! And I want to make love to you, and you _know_ there's a difference!"

He sighed and hugged Tony tight, stroking his shoulders with the warm cloth. 

"Sorry," Tony apologized. "Was just kidding. Really, I'm fine, so don't fuss, okay?"

"Okay," he said. "But we've still got bigger things to handle. If S.H.I.E.L.D.'s climate is changing, that means you might be in danger, and that means I have to protect you. Please be careful  dealing with them, Tony? For my sake?"

"Sure," Tony promised. "Of course, Steve. I love you."

"I love you too, Tony," Steve murmured, a smile on his face. "Things will be just fine."

"Sure they will," Tony agreed. "So...when are we gonna, y'know..."

Steve sighed and kissed his neck.

"Tony, once you're fully recovered from the surgery, you and I will have a talk about whether or not the two of us are ready for lovemaking," Steve promised. "If I rush into it and end up hurting you, I'd never forgive myself."

Tony nodded. 

"Yeah," he said. "I love you a lot, and I want this a lot, but, I also like not being in the hospital. And let's be honest, this is definitely not the sort of thing I want to explain to a doctor."

Steve laughed and nodded, before cupping a hand over the reactor gently and leaning in to kiss Tony's forehead.

"I love you, darling," Steve promised, giving him another kiss. "Come on. Let's get cleaned up and then I'll spend the rest of the night showing you. How does cuddling with a movie sound?"

"Sounds great, Steve," Tony agreed. "Love you."

"Love you too," Steve said, scrubbing them both clean and turning the water off before bundling Tony into a warm robe and tucking him into bed, curling up next to him and relaxing, content, with his lover beside him.

...

Tony awoke before Steve; a rare thing, really, but it gave him time to think, to wonder and contemplate. He traced his lover's muscles and considered a few things.

Steve was beautiful. And Steve was so strong; Tony had seen that firsthand. He was scared of hurting Tony, too. Tony didn't like it, but he almost understood; he could feel Steve's muscles rippling beneath his touch, and he knew his lover didn't hesitate out of selfishness. Tony had gotten hurt a lot this last year, and Steve was so fussy.

Tony kissed his cheek and thought further, letting his ideas flow as he tried to put things together.

Steve loved him. Steve did honestly want him. He had to accept that; it was part of the equation. Steve wanted him, but...

There was always a but, and Tony hated it. He frowned, continuing to think. Steve wanted to make love, but there was a lot that held him back. He was frightened of his strength; he was anxious about his inexperience, and Tony was injured. Tony could build some sort of extra-strength handcuffs if Steve was fine with that, he'd be more than willing to teach him, and, well...

Tony sighed. He shouldn't have gotten injured in the first place. But, once he felt better, hopefully, this would start fixing everything up.

Tony was supposed to love himself. Tony needed to appreciate his body and understand it wasn't all Steve wanted. He knew the words, but the meaning behind them was as vast and unfathomable as an ocean trench, and if Steve wanted Tony to understand, he needed to give him some scuba gear, pronto.

Tony huffed and laid in bed, humming quietly as he stroked Steve's hair. He'd talk to his lover about it when he woke up.

...

The morning waned on a bit, and Steve finally awoke, stirring awake to greet Tony with a smile.

"Hey," he murmured. "You okay? You look...all fuzzled."

"Good to see you so coherent before your coffee," Tony said, giving him a kiss. "And yeah, babe; can I ask you some questions?"

"Sure, love," Steve mumbled, nuzzling him and smiling. "We'll talk as soon as I can put words together right."

"Okay," Tony said, and his heart ached at seeing Steve so happy, so vulnerable and tender, and love made his whole body shudder as he clung to Steve and kissed his forehead. "C'mon, I'll make breakfast."

Steve smiled, following him placidly downstairs as Tony went for the bacon in the fridge.

"It's lean, so don't fuss," Tony said. "Get the coffee started?"

"Sure," Steve agreed. "Then we can talk."

"Great!" Tony enthused, starting the bacon and eggs as Steve began brewing coffee, the machine sputtering to life as Steve watched his lover pace about the kitchen.

Tony hummed, content, and began to work, flipping eggs and moving the bacon around in the pan, the grease popping and hissing as the eggs bubbled next to the meat, steam rising from the pan as Tony adjusted the lighter on the stove.

Steve poured them both cups of coffee, still watching Tony. He looked relaxed; comfortable with himself and entirely at ease as he moved around the kitchen, humming in a light, breezy tone still as he slid eggs and bacon on to plates, grabbing ketchup and joining Steve at the table.

Steve set the mug of coffee down across from Tony; his was already made, because Tony came first, and Steve liked watching him take his first sip; he smiled, letting it seep into his bones and jolt him awake. Steve kissed his forehead and finally went to brew his own coffee, sitting down across from Tony at the table and taking a bite of his breakfast.

The two of them ate in content silence for a few minutes, entwining their bare feet together and warming one another's cold feet up, their soles rubbing roughly against one another as the warm, tiny pads of their toes met and reminded the other that the man beside them was alive and safe. It was a small thing, but it soothed them both.

Eventually, Tony put his fork down and looked at Steve.

"I just want to ask something," he said. "It's not...urgent, really, but I just...have a few things I want clarified, and you're the only person who can do that."

"Sure, Tony," Steve agreed. "Whatever you need help with, I'm willing to step in, you know that."

"Okay," Tony said, ducking his head to the side a bit as he sunk deep into thought, "so, uh...look, I know your super-strength scares you, and your inexperience makes you a virgin wreck, and I know I almost got my heart destroyed a few months ago, and these are the physical, real reasons I can understand why you won't have sex with me." 

"...Yes, I suppose," Steve agreed, not really liking the way the conversation was moving. "Why do you ask, Tony?"

"Well, 'cause there's reasons I don't understand. Like, you keep telling me things I need to do, but not how, or why," Tony said. "Like...I'm supposed to love myself. Like, all the time, not just when I'm drunk. And I need to appreciate my own body and understand it isn't all that you want out of me now that we're dating."

Steve stared. Tony huffed, taking another sip of his coffee.

"I'm not an idiot," he said. "I know the meaning of the words you're saying—hell, I probably know their definitions in a couple of languages, I picked up some French and Italian at school. But I don't...know what's behind them, I guess. You know, the meanings that keep a word propped up and in use. I just...don't know what you want me to do with all that, Steve. I'm doing what I can, but it doesn't feel like it's working, you know? Am I doing it all wrong?"

Steve was quiet for a few minutes. He reached across the table, taking Tony's hand and squeezing it. He couldn't begin to find even a few scattered words to talk to his lover, not yet. 

Tony had never been made to confront these things, Steve realized, and his lack of progress was due in part to his own lack of knowledge and inexperience with the ideas Steve was presenting him. He had to keep repeating them, even when it felt like nothing was getting through, because Tony had never been told these things before by someone he cared about like he cared about Steve. He'd known that, but had yet to see it laid before him with such naked honesty, straight from his lover's mouth, and he was at a loss for what to do about it.

He had to do something, though, and quick; Steve hoped his gut instincts would be enough to start opening up Tony's mind about this subject, at least enough so that he could begin forging a path forward on his own.

"First off," Steve said, his voice soft, "you're not doing it wrong. You're just taking the time you need, and that's okay. Next, when I tell you I want you to love yourself, think of it this way. You must be a pretty brave, wonderful man, tough and kind and clever, to have survived in Afghanistan and then make a hero of yourself from that, right? And you must be a pretty swell guy if I've decided to make you my lover—that you, out of anyone in the world, meant that much to me, right? Those are good things?"

"Yeah," Tony agreed, taking a bite of his bacon. Steve smiled and cupped his cheek, rubbing the smooth skin and holding it gently between his thumb and index finger.

"Well, then," he said, "don't you understand why you should love yourself? Because I love you, if for no other reason?"

"...Okay," Tony said, hesitant but accepting. Steve's heart seemed to sigh and sink within him from sheer relief. "I guess that's...fair. I can do my best to do that much, at least. For your sake, right?"

"No, Tony, for _your_ sake," Steve said. "The point of self love is knowing that you deserve all that love and affection you're giving yourself. And trust me, I know you do. But, for the sake of making what's apparently a confusing, complex task for you, one you've never encountered before, a bit easier...well, say it's for my sake. At least until you've understood  it enough to know it isn't." Steve promised, kissing his forehead. Tony nodded.

"Mmkay," he agreed, taking another sip of his coffee and watching Steve intently. "Uh...will you, y'know...remind me?"

"All the time," Steve said, a smile on his face. "Haven't I been doing that already?"

"Well, yeah, you have," Tony admitted, "but I don't think I always realized it."

"And that's all right," Steve told him, his voice a gentle comfort to Tony as he continued to drink, "I knew it was going to take time and I was just fine with that. You've always mattered to me, ever since I met you."

"Me too, Steve. I've wanted you for almost forty years," Tony said with a sigh. "I want to have sex with you; I've had it with so many other partners, and...and I want to have sex to prove to you that they don't matter, that you're the only one I want to have sex with, the only one I ever really wanted, honestly, and...and I can't. Please let me prove to you how much I love you." 

Steve beckoned to him; Tony came to his side and, at another hand gesture, settled into Steve's lap, letting his lover hold him close and kiss him, slow and easy.

"Tony, you have," Steve murmured, "a million times over. You've been my guide, my teacher, and my friend. You've built me motorcycles, taken me driving, taken me dancing, gone on a date with me, and you've let me touch your reactor and take apart your armor. As far as I'm concerned, you've shown me you've always loved me in every way that matters; through your cleverness, through your generosity, through your love, and through your vulnerabilities. Oh, Tony, I love you; sex never convinced me to love you. It's okay. You can do that without using your body, I promise, you already have."

Tony sat there in silence for awhile, just thinking. Steve let him have the time to think as he cleaned up from breakfast, deliberately going slowly so as to allow Tony time alone with his thoughts and contemplating them in the dull morning light. 

"So...since I proved all that to you...that's good," Tony said. "I mean...doesn't that mean we're ready?"

"Sure," Steve agreed, "once you realize that you've already proved it to me. Be honest; have you? Have you managed to understand that your body had absolutely nothing to do with the things you did that made me fall in love with you?"

Tony shrugged, contemplative.

"I think I do, but to be honest, I don't know if I can ever be perfect. But, y'know. I can be better than I am, and I'm trying," Tony said. "So...I'm ready. I'm listening and trying, and I want to make us both happy."

Steve nodded and ruffled his hair, giving the top of his head a careful kiss.

"Okay," he agreed. "Okay, fine; we'll make an agreement, then. Once Athena gives you the all-clear on your heart, I think we're ready. I want you, Tony. I just want to know you're safe, too."

"Right," Tony agreed. "A week, then, Steve."

"Of course, Tony," Steve said, giving him a quick kiss and helping him up out of his seat as he heard the others beginning to wake up and move about the house. "Why don't we spend some time together today? I only have some mission reports to fill out; I can sit in bed and be with you. That's a good place to start, right?"

"Sure," Tony said, following Steve back upstairs, his eyes murky with thought as he walked behind his lover. "I guess it is, yeah..."

...

Tony was a genius. Once something was explained to him, it didn't take him long to put the pieces together and put the idea in motion.

So, shortly thereafter their conversation, Tony began to scribble things down whenever he had a free paper and a pen, or a tablet and stylus; simple things in his messy handwriting, but for those that could decipher Tony's chickenscratch handwriting, they would find small messages to himself; reminders of his accomplishments and the things he had done. 

His arrogance began to recede, just a tad; not enough for the press to notice, wrapped up in their pre-conceived idea of him, but enough so that the odd push-pull feeling of arrogance versus insecurity began to meet in the middle, mingling and becoming something that was enough humble desire to improve to temper his false, hollow pride, and enough genuine, fierce pride to balance out the fear that the current state of everything he was doing, and the things he had done, were in fact a terrible failure.

Steve noticed he was trying; when Tony talked to him about his work, he took great pains to emphasize what he loved about it, telling Tony why it mattered that he could make such things. It was, in fact, a relief, and Tony had never loved Steve more when he complimented the armor so glowingly.

In fact, Steve praised everything he did, offering support and ideas to further his projects; it wasn't like Howard, who had never been satisfied, always asking Tony to do more, to do better, to keep from being a disappointment. Steve was just happy Tony was happy; he wouldn't have ever regarded anything Tony did as a disappointment if he had been around when Tony was younger, he was sure of it.

Sometimes he wondered about that; what Steve might've been like when he was a kid, or what it would've been like, having Steve around as a friend and a confidante rather than a hero he only vaguely understood, a dream and a hope for tomorrow. Would he love him as he loved him now? Or would Howard have taken him, greedy bastard that he was, and kept Steve for himself, as both a lover, maybe, (Tony's spine shuddered at the thought), and a friend? 

It was selfish, sure, but sometimes, Tony was very glad Steve had only just woken up. It meant that Steve was all his, and Howard couldn't hurt or corrupt him, like he had with Tony. Even if it meant losing out on what might've been a happy childhood, well—all of that was worth it to have Steve now, to have Steve like this.

And he had survived, he reflected, as he made adjustments to his armor, Steve drawing contentedly behind him. He had survived and he had kept going, and damn it, he had done better than his dad. Hell, he'd done better not just in business, but in life, in love, and he'd put the bottle down. His dad didn't deserve credit for any of that.

But Steve, well...Steve did. Steve definitely did.

And...so did he, Tony reminded himself. Yeah, he really did. He had done all of it for Steve, sure, but he'd still done it his own damn self, and done a pretty good job doing it, if he did say so himself. He had done just fine, without his father or his mother, and he had in fact gotten better. Just a bit, but...enough that he could look in the mirror and be okay with the person who looked back at him.

Tony grinned, turning around to look at Steve.

"Hey, you're wonderful," Tony said. "Thanks, I mean. For everything you do."

"So are you, Tony," Steve replied, beaming as he cupped his lover's cheeks and gave him a quick, sweet kiss, rubbing cheeks with him before tilting his head. "Are you up to going out for awhile? You've been working all day; some dinner would be nice, right?"

Steve's love and encouragement, the ever-constant wave, weathered the sturdy wall of Tony's self loathing a little bit more. Tony smiled, nodding in agreement as he took off his gloves and goggles, wiping some engine grease from his cheek and succeeding only in smearing it as he followed Steve up the stairs.

Every time his lover told him things like that, he started to believe him, just a little more. It wasn't much, but it was something...and it was certainly something to think about over dinner.


	118. Payoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of porny fluff as an apology.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's not straight-up sex, but it's close enough. Y'all have been through over a hundred chapters without ANYTHING, I figured it was only fair. Plus it's sort of semi plot relevant.

It wasn't just his self-worth that Steve worked on improving, to be fair; Steve tried, however hesitantly, to help Tony become comfortable in his body.

Tony mused that night as he sat, naked, on his bed, that it had been very easy to appear confident and comfortable with his body simply by disassociating with it; his body did routine, mechanical things, like drinking and fucking and partying, while his mind either completely blanked out or began focusing on equations, on work. He let the body do what it wanted and had never really synched it up to his mind in any way. That probably explained the lack of interest or self-esteem he held in his own body.

Steve sat between his legs, and with enormous, tender hands, lifted his thighs up just a bit, kissing the soft inner skin. They'd had only three rules for this game; Tony wasn't allowed to touch himself or Steve, there would be no actual sex occurring, and Tony had to tell Steve exactly what he'd felt afterwards.

Steve ran his fingers over Tony's thighs, rubbing the rough, calloused tips behind Tony's knee, massaging the soft, boneless place there that made Tony whimper and go limp, his toes digging into the carpet as Steve kissed his knee.

Steve worked his way down to Tony's shins, kissing the lightly tanned skin before him and running his hands over Tony's calves, tracing little hearts into the skin and breathing lightly on the places his kisses had made wet and silky. Tony was practically mewing by the time Steve made it to his feet; Steve smiled, kissing each tiny toe on both feet before rubbing the balls of his lover's rough, sore feet and making Tony moan with relief and pleasure.

Steve began kissing his way back up Tony's body, stopping at his thighs again; he spread them just a bit and leaned in to kiss the soft inner thigh just next to his balls, and Tony wanted to cry from sheer desperation and desire. Steve just stroked the soft skin when his lips had left it, rubbing it carefully to ensure he wouldn't bruise Tony where he was fragile. Tony's hips bucked up in little abortive movements, desperate; Steve smiled.

"Ssh, Tony," he said, "I know that feels good, and I'm glad, but you're still not ready."

Tony nodded, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, trying to focus on the reality before him in his mind. Steve wanted him. Steve was touching him. Steve was holding him and being gentle with him, and it felt so good when Steve did that. It was his body that Steve was touching, and his body Steve wanted to be nice to, because it was Tony's. 

He reminded himself of that over and over as Steve kissed a path up his belly, kissing his chest and tracing his muscles as Tony whimpered, kissing his collarbone and nibbling at it every so often just to hear Tony whimper in utter bliss. He was gentle and he touched Tony without trying to bruise him or make him bleed. Tony liked that. 

It made him feel wanted and appreciated when Steve was gentle. When Steve took care to be nice when he touched him, to be considerate and loving and kind, he felt...he felt the love as much as he did the pleasure. It sent a jolt of understanding down his spine, an odd awareness that crept over his skin and made him sigh in delight, eyes half-lidded with absolute pleasure. 

The love and the desire, the sex and the sweetness, all the happiness he felt at being with _Steve_ ; not just a warm body, his boyfriend, his lover, all lent Tony a sense of self-awareness even as Steve's touches made him twitch and shudder with bliss. He knew it was Steve who was loving him, touching him so gently and with so much love in his heart that it spilled out into his fingertips, and it made all the difference. 

Tony held onto Steve tightly as his lover began kissing up his jawline and over his cheeks, before finally kissing across his cheeks and to the bridge of his nose. He kissed down the bridge before kissing the tip, moving up to pepper kisses all over Tony's forehead.

After that, very carefully, he stroked Tony's hair for what might've only been ten minutes, but felt like an eternity; Tony felt Steve's fingertips on his scalp, rubbing gently through his hair and across the skin, making him sigh in pleasure until Steve finally pulled away.

"How did you feel, honey?" Steve asked, stroking his thighs. Tony swallowed.

"Like...like I was me," he said. "Like you were touching me. Like that mattered. I was here, in my body—y'know, I told you how I just sort of...drift sometimes? It didn't happen. I was here, with you, and you were being gentle. And I loved that more than anything."

"And you think you deserve it," Steve said, "right?"

Tony nodded, giving Steve a quick, gentle kiss to his forehead; when he realized he'd broken the rules, Steve laughed and held him close, hugging him tight.

"No, don't worry," he said, "that's okay, the game's over. You were very good. I think..." Steve swallowed. "I think you deserve a reward." He blushed, taking Tony's hand and squeezing.

"So we could, uh, maybe..." Tony trailed off as Steve shook his head.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said. "I'm...I'm still scared I'll hurt you, and damn it, I don't...I don't want to do that, Tony. So, uh...compromise, maybe?"

"Sure, I think," Tony said, raising an eyebrow, "depends on what you have in mind..."

Steve was still blushing as he looked up at Tony, and the innocent look in his eyes made Tony moan quietly despite himself. He looked eager, sure, but so nervous, so anxious to please...

"Well, I don't...know how to touch a man," Steve said, "I mean, uh, another man, I mean, I touched myself once after the serum but, uh...I mean, if you could...maybe...show me how you like it? By, um...touching yourself, I mean. If that's okay."

Steve's face was bright red. Tony had to resist drooling.

"...Of course, Steve darling," Tony purred, his voice husky and rough. "You sit right between my legs and watch, okay? I'll be a good teacher, I promise."

Steve nodded, his face bright red as he sat on his knees, looking up at Tony hesitantly, tilting his head a bit as Tony took his penis in his hand, rubbing the tip.

"That's the most sensitive part, sweetheart," Tony murmured, his voice warm and heavy, "so stroke or lick there, okay? And right there, see that big vein? That's a good spot to kiss. Just be gentle, always be careful; no teeth, okay? It...it hurts."

"No, never," Steve murmured, putting his hand on Tony's thigh. "I'd never hurt you like that, Tony. It's okay. You're safe now. Play with yourself like...like I would, if I was touching you. Just as gentle and careful."

"Okay," Tony whispered in reply, his voice shaking a little. "Oh, Steve, please..."

He moved his hand up and down and Steve watched as he twisted his wrist just a bit once or twice, rubbing his shaft and fondling his sac every so often, gently cupping his balls before going back up to thumb his tip. Pearly fluid had begun to leak from his cock; Steve watched with wide-eyed interest as Tony rubbed it on his fingers.

"Precome, babe," Tony explained. "Sometimes you just get a bit...well, a bit of come before you, y'know, come."

"Oh," Steve murmured, "I, er...when I, um...I was doing that, I got a lot more..."

"Did you now?" Tony said with a smile, rubbing his cock as he thought of the sight; Steve on his back, befuddled at the fluids leaking over his hand and onto his belly. "Isn't that cute. Are you going to get wet for me when we make love, babe?"

Steve blushed, but didn't avert his gaze; this was a learning experience, he promised himself. Even if Tony was embarrassing.

"If...if I can," Steve mumbled. "I want you happy, Tony, you know that..."

"I know, Steve," Tony murmured. "See this? This is such a good way to make me happy. Oh, god, honey, I can't wait until it's your hand touching me, you don't understand...I need you, Steve...oh god, I...Steve, I love you..."

"I love you too, Tony," he murmured. "The other things I do for you, they make you happy though, right?"

"Of course," Tony said, giving him a smile. "You're holding my hand right now, right? You're being gentle with me. You're wonderful, Steve. You make me happy, just because."  
Steve held Tony's hand tight, too choked up to talk. His lover understood; he simply smiled and held onto Steve as hard as he could as he finished himself off, murmuring, "Steve, honey, look..."

Steve watched as pearly fluids began to spurt from Tony's penis, coating his stomach and running down the shaft and over his thighs. Tony moaned, milking himself of his semen before collapsing back on the bed, shaking. Steve leaned over him, eyes wide with worry.

"Tony, honey, are you all right?" He asked, cupping his cheek. Tony nodded, breathing slowly, shallowly.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I'm sorry, this just...oh, god, ow. I feel short of breath, that's all. Sex tends to do that to you."

Steve didn't look convinced, but he gave Tony a kiss and nodded, getting a towel so he could clean him up. As he kept an eye on Tony, he noticed he did, in fact, look a bit more worn out than what Steve thought was necessary; still, he gave Tony a kiss and held him close that night, so Tony would know he was wanted and loved. Especially since Steve had real, true hope he might believe it soon enough.

...

That was the farthest they got. Steve withdrew after that, and Tony chalked it up to the heart injuries, but it could only convince him of so much. He wanted to talk to Steve about it, but he'd been getting a lot of missions lately, coming home late and exhausted; Tony didn't have the heart. He just cuddled with him. 

"Athena wants to see you tomorrow," Steve said with a yawn as he held Tony close, "something about doing a check-up. It's been almost three months; Fury wants you back on active duty."

"Great," Tony said with a sigh. "Believe me, I mean it; I want out on the streets again. I'm a hero, not an invalid."

"Tony, I know; there's a reason I've been sparring with you lately. I want you back out on the field, too, but I want you prepared," Steve said. "You're a hero, Tony. It's time to remind Fury of that fact."

"Yeah," Tony said with a grin. "Love you too, Steve. Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Steve kissed the top of his head.

"Any time," he said. "Get some rest, okay? We both need it."

Tony drifted off, letting himself settle in curled up against Steve's warm body. Even if they weren't having sex, Tony was still eager to feel his lover up against him.

...

The next morning, Athena came to them with news. The sight of Steve and Tony together at the kitchen table, Tony settled in on Steve's lap, was a shock—admittedly a pleasant one, but it lanced the secret, small part within her that hungered for Steve and made it cry out.

They were in love, deeply and hopelessly so. It was plain in the gait to Steve's step as he walked beside his lover, a slow, careful stride that bespoke of protection and devotion, the twinkle to his eyes as he looked at Tony, and from the way Tony regarded him in kind. Tony's bearing spoke of a man who knew he was safe and loved. It shouldn't have broken Athena's heart the way it did.

"Boys," she said, her voice more gruff than had been intended, "I need to take a look at Tony in the lab, if that's all right. Easier to read his heart from there."

"Oh, of course, Athena!" Steve said with a broad smile. "Come on, we'll go; did you eat something? If you'd like, there's breakfast leftovers."

"Thanks, Cap, but I'll be fine," Athena said curtly. "Fury is very insistent about this examination, and I'd like it over quickly."

"Yes, I know," Steve sighed. "He keeps bringing it up whenever I'm in his office. I don't like it. I can't make Tony feel any better any faster, can I?"

"No, but..." Athena shrugged. "It doesn't matter, Captain. You have to deal with some things in S.H.I.E.L.D. you may not really like, and it's just...part of life, I suppose."

"It shouldn't have to be," Steve said firmly. "That's not how life should be run."

It hurt to hear him speak like that.

_Things shouldn't be this way._

Oh, she knew that. She knew that better than he could ever understand.

Athena sighed and made her way down into the lab, Tony following after her and sitting cross-legged on the worktable. She rifled through her bag for a stethoscope and a lead smock, only saying, "We'll need X-Rays, too."

"I figured," Steve agreed, "be careful, okay Tony?"

"It's just X-Rays, Steve, I'll be fine," Tony promised, shrugging the smock on as he called, "JARVIS? Hey, we're gonna need X-Rays. You online?"

 _"Online, sir, and the machines are fully functional. Just say the word_ ," JARVIS replied. Tony grinned.

"Whenever you're ready, doc," he addressed Athena. She nodded.

"X-Rays, if you would, JARVIS," she said. JARVIS whirred in agreement, and two machines poked their way out from enclaves in the ceiling, enamating purple light as Athena backed off, letting them run scans over Tony's chest.

It took another ten minutes or so, but eventually, JARVIS said, "Scan complete," and the machines retreated into the tiles. X-Rays appeared on the computer screen, showcasing Tony's chest. Athena took out a stylus and began to trace points on the screen.

"Most of the rim has healed," she said, "and the framework surrounding the rim is still holding up. I don't think there's anything to prevent you from going back to work, but that comes with a corollary; let's see how it holds up in the field. I'll want to look you over after everything is said and done."

"Okay, good," Tony said. "I just want to get back in the field, really. We can handle another physical tomorrow, can't we, honey?"

"Of course," Steve said, giving him a kiss. "Athena, would you like to stay for lunch? The others should be home soon."

Athena looked at the two of them, so obliviously, obviously in love, and just sighed, shaking her head. 

"Thanks, boys," she said, her voice quiet, "but I really should get going. I have work to do back at S.H.I.E.L.D., and I promised Carol she and I would go to dinner."

"Oh, all right! Have fun tonight with your daughter, doctor," Steve said wih a smile. "I'd love to meet her. Isn't she military?"

"Air Force, yes," Athena said. "I'll let her know. I'm sure...I'm sure she'd be honored. Anyone would be."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, doctor," Steve said, laughing. He didn't see the flicker of pain behind Athena's eyes as he patted her shoulder. "Thank you for everything, really. Tony and I both owe you. It's good to know we have someone to trust that can take care of him." He smiled. "Enjoy your time with your daughter, doctor."

Athena just nodded curtly, turning on her heel and leaving, taking her medical bag with her. 

"Do you think she's okay?" Tony asked. Steve sighed and shook his head.

"She's probably just worried about you being out on the field; I know I am, just a bit," Steve hugged him tight. "You have my full support and all my faith, Tony; I know you're a great hero and a strong fighter. But I am a bit scared, too."

"I'm not," Tony said. "I have you."

Steve beamed, kissing his forehead. Tony kissed him back, slow and sweet, before pointing upstairs.

"So, how about having some lunch, too?" He asked with a grin. Steve nodded, following him back up the steps and into the kitchen.

...

"He'll be back in the field tomorrow," Athena said, her voice quiet as she stood in front of Fury's desk. "He's fine. But Steve's worried."

"I bet he is," Fury said with a tiny, thin smile. "I wouldn't think much of it, doctor. Steve fusses rather often. Tony will be fine; your medical expertise has proven just that, hasn't it?"

Athena had never hated herself more than when she handed over Tony's medical file.

"Yes," she murmured. "Yes, I suppose so."

"Indeed," Fury said, taking the file from her, "dismissed, Doctor Danvers. I believe you had a dinner date with your daughter?"

Athena flinched before nodding, her head heavy as she left Fury's office. He watched her go with a quiet smile before turning back to Tony's file, his eyes triumphant as he placed it right on top of the Mandarin's.


	119. Downward Spirals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The slow descent into danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Mandarin takes his toll and finally, more signs we're getting somewhere. There's something big in the next few chapters; see if you can guess what it is.

Coulson sat at the edge of his bed that night, watching the skyline as Clint and Natasha slept peacefully beside him, comforted by the weight of their lover in their bed. Normally they didn't like sleeping without him in between them, but Coulson had waited until they had fallen into a deep sleep to leave their embrace, however regretfully, and sit and watch the stars, deep in thought.

Tony had broken the news to them; he was going back to work tomorrow. Not a single one of them was thrilled, this was true, but they hadn't said it; he looked so happy to be useful again, to be going back to being a hero, that not even Pepper raised a word of protest. Coulson would bet she was with Bruce right now, taking whatever comfort she could from him. 

He didn't know what to do. Not anymore. He was...frightened, in all truth. He'd played this game for so long, and with no results yet; he knew a showdown was coming, he simply didn't know how or when. And what might happen to him when it did.

Coulson looked at Clint and Natasha, thoughtful. They would avenge him when he was gone. He knew that. But he didn't want to leave them. He couldn't die. Selfish as it was, he was needed; he didn't want to leave as long as there was need of him, by both his team and his lovers.

He kissed Clint's cheek and sighed, shaking his head. He would go back into work by Tony's side tomorrow and intervene if he could. If he couldn't do anything, then...it might be time to get Loki and throw the gameboard into a state of upheaval.

Coulson found he liked the idea of chaos the more and more he reflected on it. Chaos was uncontrollable, sure; but just as much on Fury's behalf as his. And he had a god of chaos on his side. He would come out on top, should it come to that.

Coulson was a bit more content as he settled on that idea, enough so that, for the night at least, he could curl up in between Clint and Natasha again, allowing their steady, strong heartbeats to lure him to sleep.

...

Tony awoke the next morning and kissed Steve, cupping his lover's morning wood for just a second, if only to feel Steve's erect cock beneath his hand. He needed Steve again, and soon; even if it was just another "instructional" session, he could handle that. He just wanted his lover touching him again, all over.

Tony shuddered with pleasure as he dressed, willing away his own erection as he tugged his jeans on, grabbing his briefcase before gently shaking Steve awake. He kissed his forehead just as Steve stirred, giving him a sly grin.

"Good morning, handsome," he murmured. "Enjoy your night?"

Steve blushed and hit him with a pillow. Tony laughed, kissing Steve once more before gesturing to the closet.

"Get dressed, babe; I'll go make breakfast," he said. "You feel like bacon?"

"Sure, why not," Steve said, yawning. "Don't burn yourself on the grease, though."

"Jesus Christ, okay, mother," Tony said, trying not to laugh. "I'll see you downstairs, covered in blisters from the bacon grease all over my hands."

"Tony, you're not funny!" Steve called down the hallway as Tony sauntered downstairs, allowing himself a laugh as he made his way into the kitchen and bumped into Phil.

"Oh, hey, Phil. Making breakfast. You up for bacon?" Tony asked.

Phil just looked at him for a second. He was...he was happy. That was enough for Phil. For the moment. But he hoped it would last. If it didn't—if Fury made sure it didn't—Phil had to make a move, and soon.

"Sure, Tony," he said. "Whatever makes you happy." He smiled. "Just watch the bacon grease, okay?"

"Oh my god, you are just like him, no _wonder_ you both conspire against me," Tony grumbled. "Fine, fine, I'll watch the bacon, just make my coffee."

Phil just laughed and did as Tony asked, starting up the coffee machine as Tony hummed and began to fry his bacon, working on the stove as Phil rifled through the fridge for cream and sugar.

"Are you worried about work today?" Phil asked. "It's your first day back after a long hiatus, I mean."

"Not really; I have Steve, don't I?" Tony hummed, pleased. "I'm just glad to be back on the job, Phil. This is the only thing that lets me prove myself to everyone; it's my job to be a hero now, not a weapons-monger...and I have to take it seriously."

"I suppose," Phil agreed with a small sigh, "but do you think this is really the right place to do that?"

Tony shrugged, shaking his head.

"Okay, S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't perfect, but right now, I don't see another option. I know you want to leave, but...where? And how could we get rid of Fury? Guy's like white on rice; he sticks around whether you want whole grain or not." Tony said. Phil couldn't help but snort at the metaphor.

"We'll find a way," he promised. "But that's not a pre-coffee subject, is it?"

"Nope," Tony said with a grin. "Is it almost ready?"

"Almost," Phil said, "do you know where the others are?"

"Here, Phil, sorry," Pepper said, pushing Bruce and Thor into the kitchen. "We were getting dressed. Clint and Nat are on their way down with Steve." She looked at Tony. "Are you making bacon? Watch out for the grease."

_"Argh!"_

...

Everyone ate quickly and piled themselves into the car, heading for base. Steve gripped his shield tight, Tony's hand entwined firmly with his free one. Tony laid his head on his shoulder, sweet and trusting, his breathing soft and steady as Steve took comfort from his grasp.

They pulled into the base's garage after a few minutes more of winding their way around, hesitant to pull into work and admit the day had begun. Steve got out, managing to finagle his way out of the car without losing his grip on Tony.

"I'm not five, Steve, I can make it through the parking lot without being kidnapped by cultists for dark sacrifices," Tony said, amused. "You can let go."

"No," Steve said through clenched teeth. "I won't. It's okay, Tony; I'm going to be here."

"That's great, but you're cutting off circulation in my hand, honey," Tony said, his voice dry. Steve actually blushed, loosening his grip and giving Tony a hesitant smile.

"Is that okay?" He asked. Tony laughed, giving Steve's hand a tender, sweet kiss.

"Yeah, I suppose. C'mon, soldier, they're expecting us," Tony said, heading inside. Steve followed after him, still holding on as tight as he could.

Maria met them at the door, and Coulson tensed despite himself. He didn't let anything show on his face, but she'd seen him on the field; she knew how his muscles would clench when he was faced with a problem like this. She just beckoned to them without a word, urging them to follow her inside.

 _It's coming to a close, Laufeyson,_ Phil said, _be prepared._

 _Of course, Son of Coul,_ Loki replied. _And you as well. You are in greater danger than I._

 _Tell me about it_ , Phil said. 

He heard a quiet, cold laugh, then silence; Phil couldn't help but be amused as he made his way into the briefing room.

"Good to see you, Stark," Fury said, not even looking up from his reports. "We've got plenty of intel on the Mandarin that we acquired during your vacation. If you could take time from your busy schedule to read it, I would appreciate it; you have another mission shortly."

A muscle in Steve's jaw began to twitch. Phil began to back away towards the door, just in case. Clint and Natasha came to stand by his side.

"Tony is not going back to Afghanistan, sir," Steve said, his voice quiet and sharp. "He just recovered from grievous injuries sustained there, after a _second_ disastrous trip to that place. In my day, sir, we didn't keep sending men back in to the same dangerous situation; we found another new angle to attack from."

"But this isn't your day anymore, is it, Captain?" Fury said, his tone quiet and deceptively polite. "Truth is, Tony's the best man we have for the job. He'll go out when I deem him needed—and that might, in fact, be sooner than anticipated. Let's just see how he handles a basic patrol first, shall we?"

Steve looked like he wanted to fight, but he didn't have the right words, nor could he use his fists. And a shield was useless against S.H.I.E.L.D.; he'd learned that much by now.

"Sir," Tony said. "Ready to go out whenever you need me; Phil, take the intel files, I'll read them tonight."

"Nothing special, Stark," Fury said, "borough patrol over the next few days. Think you can handle that?"

"Of course!" Tony said brightly. "Nothing major, whatever, I'll go suit up. Pepper, Steve, you comin' with?"

"The Captain needs to remain here for training detail," Fury said. "Widow, Hawkeye, you'll accompany Stark."

Phil narrowed his eyes. Fury thought removing Clint and Natasha from his sides made him powerless? He'd gotten complacent; too used to Phil being the man behind the gods. No matter. He'd deal with it.

"I'll stay with the Captain," Bruce said. "Thor, Phil, you two aren't busy today, I guess..."

"No," Fury agreed, "they're free to go home."

Thor didn't say a word; Phil just nodded, murmured a quick,"Yes, sir, "and left with the god in tow. 

Steve took Tony's hand one more time before he left, and Tony flinched for just a second; his lover's grip was full of pain. 

"Be safe," Steve whispered. "I'll always be with you."

Tony gave him a quick kiss before sauntering off. Steve watched him leave with a tiny smile that fell from his face as soon as Tony was gone. 

Fury watched them all leave with a small grin on his face; Maria watched Fury in kind, her face neutral. Eventually, he beckoned to her; they left for his office, her boots thudding on the ground beside his. 

"So...you're biding your time," Maria said, "but...why, sir? Why, after all this time?"

"Maria, I've had games that lasted years. Six months is nothing," Fury replied. "I don't mind biding my time. I have them completely cornered; it's just a matter of picking the best time and the best situation to capture all the pieces."

"I see," she said. "Are you hoping for an argument?"

"Yes; a rift of some kind. Steve's smothering Tony. He'll try to break away from that eventually, and when he does...we'll have him for the mission. He won't say no. Not when his pride's on the line." Fury told her. Maria nodded.

"Of course, sir," she said. "It is Tony, after all. We'll have him on the mission by next week."

"Oh, earlier even, if Tony keeps pushing," Fury said, amused. "I'm more interested, frankly, in their reactions than the end result. At least, for the moment." 

"Fair enough," Maria agreed. "Though the end result is coming soon,sir."

"Oh, I know, Maria," Fury said. "I've already ensured that much."

"Then...we'll see how it ends, sir," she murmured. 

"I already know," Fury replied. "But it'll be interesting to watch, won't it?"

Maria just nodded, her throat too tight to speak. Fury led her into his office; she shut the door behind them, and the utter finality to it made her heart stop for a second.

...

Steve went through his paces robotically, his movements jerky and sharp. The recruits noticed, but they didn't speak of it; the Captain had been on edge for almost a week now, and they didn't want to push him.

Outside of Steve's anxiety and anger, Tony soared through the city unawares. He was content; more than content, actually, as he felt the suit around him, cradling him in its embrace, a cocoon to keep him safe and keep him strong.

He didn't do much for the first hour; the very sight of Iron Man just had people gawking and waving, calling his name. As if out of respect, there were no criminals about for awhile. Tony hummed, pleased, until he heard the sound of whipping wind and groaned.

"Really? The _Whirlwind_ , JARVIS? How sad," Tony remarked, soaring towards the bank nearby, its windows blown out by the gusts of wind. "Power on maximum? We can get this guy in one hit. And put the police on the line."

 _"Already arranged, sir,"_ JARVIS told him, " _and your repulsors are on maximum."_

"Great, thanks," Tony said, slowing to a stop in front of the man in a tight green bodysuit, his enormous helmet whipping wind around him. "Hey! Buddy! D'ya ever realize this is just a really, really sad way of expressing your primal urges?"

The Whirlwind grunted and went to punch him. Tony dodged with a sigh.

"There go my plans for a self-help book," he grumbled, rolling in midair and righting himself as he aimed his repulsors. "None of the villains would buy it."

 _"Self awareness is hard to come by among those who wear tight spandex for a living, sir,"_ JARVIS agreed.

"I can't imagine why," Tony said. "Full power to the repulsors, JARV."

"Fire away, sir," he replied.

Tony grinned and blasted the Whirlwind away from the bank and onto the sidewalk. For a second, as he heard the sound of the police cars pulling up and watched Whirlwind struggle to get up, he felt triumphant; finally, a hero again, doing good. 

Then his heart seized up, and he screamed in agony, steadying himself before he plummeted, his entire body shuddering with pain in the suit. 

_"Sir? Anthony? Anthony!_ " JARVIS called. He grimaced.

"Give me a sec, JARVIS...I'll be fine," he rasped. The police got out of their cars, hesitant.

"Iron Man? Bud, you okay?" The sargeant asked, his brow furrowed. Tony nodded.

"Yeah, thanks. You can take him from here?" He said. "Transfer him back to the Cube; let them know I want a look at his suit if they can manage it."

"Sure thing, boss," he said. "Good to see you again."

"I'm flattered," Tony said, hoping he sounded flippant enough. "Take good care of him, boys; I've got other places to be, I'm afraid. There's a whole city out there."

He soared off, trying to calm his shaking body and soothe his aching heart. JARVIS whirred, running scans on him as he flew.

 _"Sir, your heart is acting up again. It isn't the reactor. I...I don't know what it could be, Tony. Forgive me,_ " JARVIS said, his tone pained and defeated. Tony sighed.

"We'll figure it out. Until we do, don't tell Steve. He'll never let me out of his sight again, and I refuse to be a helpless invalid, thanks," he said.

 _"But sir, you could be in serious danger—Tony, you_ know _this isn't a wise choice, please tell Steven, you could be_ dying—"

"But I'm _not_ , JARV," Tony promised. "This is just magic. And magic can be countered by science. The Mandarin just cast a weird spell of some kind on me, and damn it, I'll find out how. I'm not getting Steve involved. He doesn't need to worry."

There was a pause. Then JARVIS sighed.

 _"If you have not figured out a source within the week, sir, I want you to tell him. Fair enough?"_ He asked. Tony nodded.

"Yeah, I figure. It shouldn't take me too long; a few all nighters and we're good," he said. "Now c'mon, we have the other boroughs to patrol."

JARVIS whirred agreement, and the two were speeding off, allowing Tony to ignore the pain in his chest for the time being.

...

A few more boroughs and a few more minor confrontations left Tony with a few twinges in his heart, but nothing as severe as the Whirlwind had provoked. He went back into S.H.I.E.L.D. base with a smile and a swagger in his step as he went searching for Steve.

Steve found him, eventually, and with a smile, swept him up into his arms.

"Hello, gorgeous," he said, pecking his cheek. "Are you ready to go?"

"Hell yeah," Tony said, squeezing his hand. "Feel like dinner out tonight, soldier?"

"Sure, Tony; let's run home and get dressed. After that, I'd love to." Steve kissed his neck and put him down, taking his hand and squeezing it gently. "Ready when you are."

The two left, hand in hand and at ease for the time being. 

Steve noticed the reactor glowing oddly when they went home and got changed, but he didn't say anything about it throughout dinner, nor the movie they watched together afterwards; it was in bed, when Tony was shirtless and Steve could touch it, that he brought it up.

"Sweetheart, if something's wrong—" Steve was cut off as Tony kissed him. He pulled away with a smile and ruffled his lover's hair, silencing further protests.

"Already planning on running tests, babe," Tony promised. "Chill out, all right? I'll let you know if I find anything really dangerous. For now, just relax, okay? It's magic, and it's confusing, but I'll do just fine, I swear. Science trumps magic every time."

"If you say so," Steve murmured, kissing his forehead. "I trust you, Tony. Just please be careful. The last thing I want is you in danger."

"Sure, sure," Tony promised, giving him a quick kiss. "Some petting okay with you? I could use it."

Steve nodded, kissing his neck and rubbing Tony's back, occasionally groping his bottom as he soothed his lover to sleep. Even with Tony so relaxed and at ease in his arms, however, sleep did not come easily for Steve, and it was with a heavy, nervous heart that he finally drifted off.


	120. Lower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magic blood clots: the saga. There's more to this than I'm telling you, though, so keep that in mind!

Tony was gone when Steve awoke the next morning; for a second, his heart seized up with panic and fear, until he calmed himself down enough to realize that Tony had probably gone into the lab to continue work on the reactor.

Steve sighed. He wanted this to be over with a fierce desire that made his temples throb, his thoughts aching. He wanted Tony to be fixed up, he wanted Fury to leave his lover alone, and he wanted, more than anything, for him and Tony to have a chance to be together without something tearing at them. He could only hope, perhaps, that this would be the last repair Tony needed; Steve, quite frankly, was more than ready to make love.

He would never pressure Tony, of course, but he knew part of his desire actually stemmed from the fact that Tony was finally starting to understand. However, the problem lay more in the fact that further exploring his lover's body and helping him come to terms with it was something Steve couldn't do, so long as the reactor continued to cause him pain.

Steve sighed and pushed his face into one of the pillows. He resisted the urge to scream, but it welled up in him anyway, hot and fierce. He was absolutely done with going to work, and wanted only to watch over Tony while he did whatever he needed to do in the lab, but it was, in fact, a necessity.

As he went downstairs, Tony was sitting at the table, sipping coffee. A file folder was on the table next to him, his briefcase at his feet.

"Hey, babe," he said. "Sorry I took so long. I got some scans done on the reactor before you woke up. I wanted to bring them in and use S.H.I.E.L.D.'s labs for the day, just to see what I can do about fixing this with Athena's help. She knows more about the medical stuff than I do."

"All right," Steve agreed. "You can wake me up from now on if you need to leave bed before me, okay?" He blushed a bit, self-conscious. "It's just, err, I worry."

Tony laughed, nodding in agreement as he looked up at Steve.

"You're somethin' else," he said with a tiny grin, his eyes shining with love. "You're ridiculous, Steve. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Tony," Steve said with a warm smile, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. "Now, how about breakfast before we go?"

"Sure," Tony agreed. "Already made coffee, babe."

Steve smiled and fried up some eggs, and the two had a nice, peaceful breakfast spent in each other's company.

Then, of course, they had to go to work.

Steve didn't look thrilled about being split away from Tony, but there was an emergency in the city the second they came through the door, and he went to handle it as Tony went down into the labs to confer with Athena. 

He personally didn't see it as much of a disaster; a pro-Nefaria terrorist group threatening to bomb the United Nations was one thing, but it was easily dispatched—Steve had dealt with his fair share of tyrant sympathizers, he should think. 

He waved off the press with an easy smile before going back to base. Before he did, however, he made one stop; he went to a hot dog stand and got two hot dogs, with all the fixings, for both himself and Tony. He knew Tony wouldn't eat otherwise.

...

"Reactor still giving you trouble?" Athena said. Tony sighed.

"A bit, yeah," he said. "I was fighting the Whirlwind yesterday, and it completely fucked over my repulsors...and my heart," he threw his hands up. "This is _ridiculous_ , Athena! I'm so sick of feeling _useless!"_

"Hey, Tony, don't you start on yourself," Athena said, her tone stern but maternal. "You know it isn't your fault. We'll fix this. Just don't let it eat at you while we do."

"Yeah, I know, I know. I made a few more scans of the reactor, let me get those; I want to run them by the ones you made and see what's changed. You might be able to see something I don't, yeah?" Tony said, rifling through his bag as he went to go get the pictures. Athena nodded, kneeling down to offer him help. Tony placed the sheaf of pictures in her hands; she stood up gracefully and went to go set them down on the nearest worktable.

"I'll rifle through the files, pull your pictures up; you get those organized, okay?" Athena said, doing just that as Tony got to work.

It didn't take long; the two of them had both sets of arc reactor x-rays up within a few minutes. Athena observed hers before looking at Tony's.

"It's not that anything's _changed.._." She said with a frown. "It's more like it's...moving. The same amount of damage exists, but it's just moving around your body. I don't know how to explain it; it's potent magic, Tony. All our files on the Mandarin talk about the power in his rings."

"Well, then I'll have to build something better than magic," Tony said. "How big is the area of damage?"

"Only about the size of a quarter at this point, but near the heart, that's more than enough," Athena said. "It looks like a clot, but that's not the best term for it, even then..."

"Yeah, magic is funny like that," Tony said with a long-suffering sigh. "If we can try to find out what it's made of, I can build something to destroy that specific material?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. has a few anti-magic fields and magic nullifiers, we could try those and see—"

"It won't work."  
  
The two of them jumped, turning around to see the figure of Nick Fury standing in the doorway. Tony tensed before he could stop himself; Athena moved in front of him, just a bit, and grabbed her bag, holding it in front of her chest.

"Why not, Director?" She said. "We've been getting a lot of use out of them lately."

If he noticed the jibe, he didn't say anything about it. He just gestured to Tony's reactor, shaking his head.

"Look, I've seen Tony's reactor when it's been at its worst from palladium poisoning, and I know enough about the effects it has on his overall health to tell you this much; if you've tried surgery, tried waiting it out, then you've got about one more option, and that's destroying the source of the infection," Fury said. "The Mandarin's power rings need to be destroyed for the magic to be destroyed."

Tony observed him carefully. He didn't look like he was lying—then again, the Director was a good enough liar that, really, he wouldn't look like he was.

"So...what does that mean?" Tony said. 

Fury just smiled.

"It means that we still have a bead on the Mandarin, and you never carried out your full mission in Afghanistan."

Tony's blood froze in his veins.

"Right," he said, his head pounding and his knees going weak. "Right. I...I'll have to confer with my team."

"Of course," Fury said. "But I wouldn't think waiting long would be a good idea, Stark. The longer you wait, the better chance you have of that thing killing you."

_I'm not going._

But he couldn't say that to Fury. He'd pushed his boundaries enough. He just...wouldn't go. That's all.

"I'll think on it," he said. "Keep me posted on the Mandarin."

"Of course, Tony. I'll update you whenever anything changes," Fury agreed, his voice placid. He turned and left after that, breezing out of the labs just as Steve walked in.

Steve watched him walk down the hallway, his head tilted, before he turned back to Tony.

"Tony, what's going on?" Steve asked. "Are you hurt? What's the matter?"

Steve. Sweet, beautiful Steve, who had two hot dogs with him—lunch for the both of them, Tony just knew it. He couldn't let Steve know, couldn't let him get involved. They'd talk later.

"Nah, I'm fine. Fury wanted to ask me something. I'm looking over some scans of the reactor now—Athena says we might try an anti-magic field focused on my heart to dispel them, since it might be influence from the ring..." Tony said. 

Steve beamed, pleased at the possible solution. Tony and Athena just looked at each other. Neither of them had ever felt more guilty of lying in their lives.

...

Phil knew something had gone wrong, but he didn't know what; it was all in the way Tony moved, rough and defeated and worn out. He didn't bring it up; he just checked in quickly with Athena, before looking at Steve.

"The Director needs to see you, Steve," he said. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No, thank you Phil. I'll be fine," Steve said. "Can you keep an eye on Tony if you're not busy, though? I'd like it if he wasn't on his own."

Tony stuck his tongue out, silly and teasing; Steve smiled, his eyes warm with love as he leaned down to kiss Tony's forehead.

"I'll be back soon, Tony," he promised, turning and leaving, his shield on his arm. 

Tony went back to work after waving goodbye; Athena looked at Phil, and, just quiet enough so that Tony didn't hear her, murmured, "You didn't want him to go alone, did you?"

"No," Phil replied, a knot of worry growing in his stomach.

...

Steve entered the Director's office and was taken aback; he looked concerned, contrite, and it was...unsettling. Still, Steve relaxed despite the oddness of the situation; he couldn't complain if the Director was going to be _nice_ , right?

"I have some bad news, Steve," Fury said. "I think it's a cause for concern regarding Tony, and as his partner, you needed to be the first one to hear it."

Steve shuddered before he could stop himself, nodding hesitantly as worry made his fingers dig into his shield, just a bit tighter.

"All right, sir," Steve said. "What's the problem?"

"The clot in Tony's body is magic-based, we believe," Fury said. "A leftover from the ring, most likely. While I believe we can dispel it with some anti-magic fields, which S.H.I.E.L.D. possesses already, Tony is adamant that he be allowed to destroy the Mandarin's rings, because he believes that's the only way he can destroy the clot. He wants to return to Afghanistan and take him on."

Seeing Steve change made Fury's heart swell with triumph; the sudden sharpness to his eyes, the fear, the _anger_. Oh, yes. He had them both. 

"Don't worry, sir," Steve said, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "I'll talk to him."

Fury just smiled.

"I know, Captain. I thought you'd be concerned," he said. "Don't worry; I'm sure he'll wait until he's completely healed to do anything."

"I'm not," Steve murmured, and he must have thought Fury wouldn't hear him, but it made Fury grin nonetheless. "I'll speak to him, Director. Could I be dismissed?"

"Of course, Captain," Fury said. "Until later. Good luck."

"Thank you, sir," Steve said, saluting him before leaving, heading back towards the direction of the labs. Fury tried not to laugh as he sat back down at his desk.

Maria came in a few minutes later and for a few minutes, simply observed him, as if she was contemplating something. He was about to ask her what was going on when she said, "Sir...why do you need Iron Man in Afghanistan so badly?"

"Honestly, Hill, it may be the only way to fix him, for one, let's be fair," Fury said. "And besides, the Mandarin is a legitimate threat, one Tony is well-suited to taking down. I need him out there, you know that. He's a powerhouse when he wants to be."

Maria suspected that wasn't the entire truth of the matter, but she didn't say anything about it. She just nodded, sighing quietly as she took her place beside Fury and started in on her own work.

...

Steve went back to the lab and watched Tony work. He had stopped on the anti-magic field research and was now, in fact, making upgrades to the suit.

His eye twitched, but he didn't say anything. Picking a fight about it here was a horrible idea. He needed to sit his sweetheart down someplace safe and sound at home and have a talk with him about this before anything really went wrong. S.H.I.E.L.D. was not the place he wanted to bare his soul.

Athena noticed the tension in the Captain's body and despaired. Whatever Fury had done had gotten to him, though she didn't know for the life of her what it might have been. She just grit her teeth, smiled through it, and said cheerfully, "You won't need these upgrades for awhile yet, right, Tony? I mean, you're not going to be doing any heavy lifting soon."

"Nah," Tony said. "I just like making them. Good to know I can, and that they'll exist."

Her gaze flickered over to Steve's quickly, worried. The Captain's shoulders had not relaxed, but the dangerous glint had left his eyes. She sighed, relieved. It was something, at least. It meant they might not have a fight on their hands.

She still wanted to know why they ever would have, of course, but she could save that for later. The two of them needed to cool off together; Steve needed to know Tony was safe and sound at the very least. She just had to keep an eye on them.

And so she did; for the rest of the day, while Tony worked and Steve went over his medical records, brooding, Athena did her best to ensure whatever was going to go on tonight back at home wasn't going to end in a disaster. It wasn't much; a few deflected comments here and there, a few reminders about Tony's current health, how safe he was and how they were going to fix him just fine...but, as she bade them goodbye for the night, it was all she could do.

Athena sighed, sitting down and laying her head down on the lab table, closing her eyes and shaking her head. There was only so much she could do. But this still didn't feel like enough.

Maybe nothing would've been.

That thought chilled her as she went upstairs, collecting her things and heading for home.


	121. Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome.

The others knew something was up, but Fury had played his game well; none of them knew exactly what, and unfortunately, Phil couldn't contact Loki from this distance away and perhaps find out. They just had to watch the two of them over dinner, Steve practically grinding his teeth and Tony picking at his food.

Finally, Steve broke the silence.

"Sweetheart, why don't we watch a movie?" He said as everyone was making after-dinner coffee. Tony nodded, looking up at him and giving him a small smile. 

Steve's heart softened, and as much as he was scared and angry in that moment, he knew exactly  _why_ he was; because he loved Tony so damn much, and Tony was going to hurt himself. If he was angry, it was because he wanted to protect him. And so he would. Even if he had to yell at him a little bit, first.

Steve kissed his forehead and led him upstairs; he went to shower while Tony undressed, the two of them trading places as Steve toweled off and put his pajamas on, listening to the sounds of Tony showering, and then, finally, dressing for bed and crawling underneath the blankets beside him.

Steve bundled Tony up tight against his chest and kissed his cheeks, slow but sure, before settling him in and stroking his hair. Tony smiled, nuzzling his neck and licking the skin; the two of them barely even watched the movie after the first ten minutes, much more focused on the feel of each other.

An hour of petting, slowly touching each other and running their hands over the other person's skin began to bleed into something more. Tony kicked off his sleeping pants and tugged off Steve's shirt, kissing his chest and licking at his nipples, carefully playing with the bright pink buds. Steve shuddered and groaned, bucking up with pleasure before he could stop himself.

Tony took it as a sign to keep going, and with a grin, he began to kiss his way down Steve's chest, kissing all around the strip of skin between his waistband and his hips, eager to continue. Steve's fingers twitched in abortive moments to grab Tony's hand, to bury his fingers into his lover's hair, but he couldn't move, just moan.

Tony nuzzled his growing bulge through the cotton of his pants, grinning down at it in triumph as it began to swell, getting bigger and firmer the more he mouthed at it. Steve's head was dizzy and he sighed with pleasure, but he knew he had to stop. They had to talk. 

He picked Tony up and put him on his lap; this was not his best move, as he soon realized, because Tony now had a perfect vantage point to grind him from. Steve gripped his hips and shook his head.

"We need to talk," Steve said. "Tony, this is serious. You're in danger, and you're going to just—"

"Steve, I'm fine, damn it!" Tony shouted. "I'm not fragile, and I'm not weak! I can take whatever you give me, for god's sake, and I want it, and you want it, and we're so close, come on, come on..."

"Tony, that's not what I'm talking about," Steve said, sighing as he held him close. "This isn't about lovemaking, it's about you—"

"What? Not being good enough? Still, after all this time, after everything I've done, not good enough for you, or for—for _lovemaking_ , there, I _said it_ , because if that's what you want it to be, I don't really feel very _loved_ , Steve!" Tony said.

Steve winced and shuddered. He stroked Tony's stomach, careful and gentle.

"Hey," he said. "Hey. I love you. We've been through a lot in just a few months, but I love you, Tony. You know that. You feel that, right?" He shook his head.

No. He couldn't play this game right now. If he was soft, if he faltered—if he let him slip past him, Tony would _die_. He had to save him. Even if that meant hurting him.

"I'm not feeling very loved right now either, Tony," he said. "I mean, seeing as you're running off to Afghanistan without me to get yourself _killed_."

"I don't have a _choice!_ " Tony shouted. "It's either that, or the clot the Mandarin put into my body kills me, Steve!"

Steve stopped, putting a hand on Tony's chest. The epiphany hit him all at once, and he hated every second of it.

"So...that's it," he said. "That's why you've been reacting badly to sex. Your heart...is getting over taxed by the overstimulation."

He suddenly felt ill.

"Tony, no," he said, "we can't have sex. We just can't. Not while you're in danger. I won't be responsible for making it any worse."

Tony stared up at him blankly. Steve felt guilty, but he held firm. He had to do this, for the sake of Tony's health, his _life._

He could feel the argument stirring between them both, but, stupidly, he ignored it. They could handle arguments. They had before. This was just about sex, Tony knew better now, he wouldn't let this ruin things.

Except it wasn't just about that. Except this argument had been stirring beneath the surface for a long time, and maybe they both knew it—maybe they were both eager to get it out and get it over with. In any case, neither of them could expect what would transpire.

Something changed in Tony's face, and when it did, he pushed Steve away. The touch was light, but the carelessness in it threatened to undo him more than the force.

"You always do this," Tony said, beginning to pace the room like a cornered tiger, dressing himself as he did. "You do this with everything. Just when things start to get good, you pull the rug out from underneath me, like you're _scared_ of me. Like you don't really want this and you don't know how to get out."

Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Tony cut him off with a shake of his head.

"No, no, don't you lie to me, don't you _dare_. You do it _every time_. You never want to go far enough, give me everything, because you're _scared_ , right? You don't think this is really worth it, and you're worried it'll be too late once you realize that, so you just...keep me on the edge like this. It hurts, it really hurts, damn it, because I've given you _everything,_ and _you don't get it!_ " Tony ranted, running a hand through his hair, tossing his head like an enraged bull.

"Tony, please," Steve begged, getting up to go embrace him. "Tony, I'm trying. This is a lot for me to handle, and I'm doing the best I can. I know it's hard on you, but all I want is to keep you safe."

In response, Tony pushed himself away from Steve and stared at him, daring him to continue.

"Don't do this, Tony," Steve said, his shoulders slumped and his eyes dull. "Please, I can't do this anymore. You don't realize it, Tony, but you manipulate me; you do things like this because you want me to do things for you. You don't need to do that. I'll give you everything you ask for, but you have to be open and honest with me about it. No more manipulation, no more miscommunication; enough, Tony."

"I've been telling you I want sex for the past seven months, Steve! How much more honest do you want me to _get_?" Tony demanded, throwing his hands up in frustration. Steve sighed.

"That's not what I'm talking about," he said. "I'm talking about us. How you thought the only way to get me to confess was while you were drunk."

Tony stared at him, and the pain in his gaze broke Steve's heart in places he'd never known existed, but he pressed on, regardless.

"I loved you. I'd loved you all that time. And you got drunk to make me say it. You didn't come clean to me, you didn't confess, you just got wasted and hoped for the best, Tony. That's manipulation, even if you don't realize it," Steve said, quiet.

It hurt him to say that. He _knew_ why Tony was scared. He understood all his pain and why he had done the things he had, and why, when he needed Steve's love, he had obtained it in that way, but if he wanted to heal the problems behind that, he had to make him acknowledge they were wrong, too. 

Steve sighed, inhaling slowly and shaking his head. "I want...I want to start over. I want you to be open and honest with me. And I want you to be honest with _yourself._ I love you, I do. But you're not giving me everything, Tony; you're only giving me what _you_ think I'll want so I'll make love to you. And that's not what I want. I want _all_ of you. I love you. Not just the parts you think are worth it."

Tony just stared at him, his expression inscrutable.

Maybe this rift between them had been here all this time. It wasn't as if they had started on good ground in the first place; a lack of solid foundation sent even the best of houses tumbling down. That had to be it. But they had still built a beautiful house together, and they could make it a home again. They just had to try.

Maybe this was better, Steve told himself, this desolation and destruction. Maybe the pain of the present would help them build a better future.

Maybe it didn't feel like that one bit. Maybe every second of silence was killing him as he stood there, watching Tony.

Tony didn't say a word. For a long, slow minute, the space widened between them, and Steve was aware of a horrible sinking feeling that pulled him down dizzingly into the depths of despair that he would never get Tony back.

His arms fell to his sides. Tony wasn't going to seek their comfort. Not now, not ever. Not from the way he looked at him.

Tony stared back at Steve, his entire body shaking. Whether it was from rage or unshed tears, neither of them knew.

He had dreamed of him. Maybe that was the problem all along. Dreams were so much nicer to keep in the dark, where you couldn't see the flaws that came with them.

"You know what? You want me to be _honest_ , then, Steve?" Tony snapped. "Fuck this. This wasn't worth waiting my whole life for. Not to be told I'm a manipulative liar. Not for any of this. Not for _you_."

Steve went numb. He wondered, briefly, whether this had been what being under the ice all those years would've felt like, if he'd been awake to feel it.

Tony looked horrified for a split second, but he shook it off, pressing forward. He didn't know what else to do, and the ground was giving beneath him, allowing him no way to turn back.

"I've tried my damn best to change, to open up, to be good for you, and it's _never_ enough, and you won't do the same thing in return, so why should I bother?" Tony said.

No, this was wrong, a part of him protested, this was all wrong, you _know_ him, you _love_ him—

But he didn't. No one could be that good to him and really mean it. Deep down, there was a place in Steve where he hated him, he was sure of it. Tony was just doing his part to bring it to the surface.

He looked at the man who had adorned thousands of posters in his room, been on hundreds of his tee shirts, his action figures, his journals; whose face he had seen staring back at him from the ice every birthday, promising himself that when he was just a bit older, just a bit stronger, just a bit _better,_ that he would free him...

But he hadn't. Steve still hid from him to this day. Whether it was behind ice or behind his own fears, his own hesitation, it didn't matter. Tony couldn't take it anymore. If he didn't know something, he had to figure it out. And if he couldn't figure it out, well...

He had to abandon it. It was safer that way.

But not better. Even as he went for the door, he knew that.

"Good news," he said, and in a manic moment, he congratulated himself for keeping the tears from his voice, " I won't. If you think you're enough to stop me from going to Afghanistan and saving myself, guess what; you're not."

He grabbed his suit case and a jacket, heading for the door. Steve didn't so much as breathe.

For a second, Tony turned around to look at him. There was too much contained in his gaze for Steve to process, but all of it caused him pain.

"I loved Captain America," he said. "I don't know about you, though. I don't think I ever met enough of the real you to tell."

Steve wondered, as Tony shut the door between them both, whether or not Tony had been crying. He hadn't been able to tell through his own tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The abruptness of this is deliberate. There are two reasons why this is so. One; arguments in real life are often like this. Believe me, I've been in tumultuous relationships like this, and literally one offhand sentence can spark arguments about things that happened six months ago, or even years before. So even though it's dramatic, one, well, it's supposed to be, two, arguments like this really are that sudden.  
> Two, and this is a much more pragmatic reason, there's still about 40k left of this fic, and like HELL am I dragging things out anymore. God, I'm getting fatigued, and I wrote it.  
> So, uh...yeah. I said I'd tackle the problems in their relationship, and now, 81 chapters later...I have.


	122. Open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything happens so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much happens in this chapter I honestly don't have the words to describe it all! Not without spoilers!

Phil watched Tony leave the house, and knew immediately something had gone horribly wrong. They needed the Captain.

"Pepper," he said. "Go get Steve. Talk to Steve. I want you all to stay with him. Do not, under any circumstances, let him go to S.H.I.E.L.D. base. Understood?"

She nodded, her face pale as she stood up and grabbed Bruce's hand for a moment of support before going upstairs.

 _"Philip, please,"_ JARVIS begged _, "do not, Fury will—"_

"Whatever he already did might have just tipped the scales, JARVIS," Phil said. "It's over. I'm done. I need to save them. No more waiting."

He grabbed his gun and he left without another word.

The other Avengers looked at each other and looked back at the kitchen.

"I'll make coffee," Clint said. "I think we're gonna be waiting on Pep and Phil for awhile."

Natasha nodded, patting Bruce's shoulder and getting up to help him.

...

Fury just smiled when Tony stormed into his office, his eyes blazing and red-rimmed.

"There's a plane already in the hangar for you, Stark," he said. "Good luck."

Tony left without so much as a word. Fury didn't say anything either; he just waited. This was only the first rumble of thunder. The real storm was yet to come.

...

Phil pulled up and stormed out of his car, his gun at his hip and his eyes dull and dead. He didn't so much as twitch, his gait smooth and slow after he reached the base doors; he wouldn't let them see him break.

There were still signs, though, and he knew it; he couldn't help himself. It was falling apart again, just as it had before, when his darlings were lost to him. 

He made his way to the hall where Fury's office resided. Victoria stood before him, just at the end of the hallway, her arms crossed—probably, Phil noted, so she thought he wouldn't see her hands shake.

"Don't hurt her," she said, "or I'll get my gun and shoot you, I mean it."

Phil took a minute to realize what she meant before he laughed, sudden and sharp. The way she flinched would've made him wince if he was not teetering on the edge of losing his mind again.

"Oh, Victoria," he said. "I admit, I've always admired how easily you ignore the things your lover does for her job. Does it get easier as it goes on?"

Her teeth clenched, she managed to spit out, "Don't play games with me, Coulson. We both know _your_ lovers aren't saints either. Maria does what needs to be done. This wasn't her fault. And I _won't_ let you hurt her for it. I don't care if I get hurt too, you're not—"

"Oh, but _she_ does," Phil said, and he suddenly looked agonizingly tired. "You're her weakness, Tori. I don't think she realizes that. But she does a lot of the things she does just to keep you safe. You're right. Don't blame her. She's doing the best she can to keep you alive." He sighed.

"It's just that usually ends up in one of my team risking their lives," he said. "It doesn't matter. That's the way the world works." He looked up at her.

"I won't hurt her," he said. "You have my word on that. But you have to let me go. I need to talk to Fury. I need to save my team. Like she tries to save you."

Victoria watched him for a long, slow moment.

Then she nodded, letting him pass.

Phil swept past her like the fall of night, sudden and sharp and dark; Victoria shuddered despite herself, hurrying off to find Maria. She figured an early day was better for the both of them, regardless of what Phil promised.

...

Phil came into Fury's office quietly, politely, and sat down in front of his desk.

"I know you're trying to hurt them," he said. "I let you hurt Clint and Natasha. Never again, Fury. I won't let you do this."

"It's a little late, Phil," Fury replied, equally placid. "Iron Man is already on a plane for Afghanistan as we speak."

He shook his head and picked up the Avengers Initiative file.

"Speaking of Afghanistan and Iron Man, on the last few missions, your management of the team has become exceedingly poor, Phil. Missed missions, injuries, few objectives being met; they need a better handler, someone more used to groups and partnerships," Fury said.

Something cold and heavy had begun to burrow into Phil's stomach.

"Unfortunately, the truth is, you're simply not the best man for the job I have in mind," Fury said. "The command of the Avengers Initiative has been transferred to the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., as per the instructions of the World Security Council. Put it simply, Phil?" Fury smiled.

"They're not your team anymore."

Phil broke.

He knew that feeling well now, however, and so he simply nodded.

"Dismissed," Fury said, and the coldness in his voice carried with it the horns of triumph, wicked and bright.

Phil stood up and left without a word, closing the door quietly behind him.

The group of agents walking down the hall, chattering amongst themselves, passed him by.

None of them were particularly at ease for the rest of the day. Not after seeing the look in his eyes.

...

Phil went down to the labs, a churning mass of emotion seething beneath the hard, brittle shell of agenthood he clung to now, just long enough to do what had to be done.

Athena met him at the center of the lab. She looked at him and immediately knew; how could she not? She'd seen this happen once before. Now it was happening again; to Phil, and to her _Captain._

"I need a set of keys," Phil said, his voice calm. "I need to speak to Loki, as commander of the Avengers."

She knew the truth. 

But she knew what the good thing to do was. And that was better than the truth.

She pressed a set of keys into his hand. Her hand was firm and sure, and his own shaking, pale hand took comfort from it.

"Keep him safe," she murmured. "They're still your team. They still need you."

"Of course," Phil replied. "They've never stopped."

He disappeared into the depths of the labs without another word.

Athena had never felt more like a hero as she saw him shut the door.

...

Phil made his way down into the labs, remembering the directions that Bruce, ages ago, had given him. He walked with purpose and intent, and so no one stopped him. As he slowly let his emotions, his pain and rage and fear and hope, all in curious measure, leak through the slowly-shattering shell of his agent persona, they actively kept their distance.

Loki lifted up his head, looking about his chamber. For the first time in months, he felt... _warmth_. Not in terms of the temperature, which had been kept at a steady ninety-nine degrees so as to cause him maximum pain, but in terms of, well, the soul, to put it simply. Someone's soul blazed with fire as they came down the hallway, and it was burning away all the grey that had lurked around him for so long.

Loki sighed in pleasure at the feeling of emotion, of _life;_ it renewed him in ways that he didn't understand entirely, but was immensely grateful for. The pain in his body lessened; the ache in his heart dulled. Someone was coming—

And, as the door was wrenched open, he realized it was for him.

The Son of Coul stood before him in the flesh, his eyes blazing, his entire body alive with emotion, with _life_ ; it burned away the last of the anti-magic that clung to the chamber as he held a hand out to Loki.

"Time to go, Laufeyson," he said. "We have a world to burn."

"Marvelous," Loki said, standing up and accepting the hand he was offered. It was strong, and it was worthy. Not quite Thor, but...it would do.

He closed his eyes as they stepped outside and felt his magic return to him for the first time in months. 

With a cry of delight, roughened and raw from months in captivity, the two of them disappeared.

...

Pepper opened the door to see Steve sitting on the bed, tears in his eyes.

"Pep, I've ruined _everything,"_ he murmured. "God, it's been broken from the start, but I didn't see...I never saw until now what Tony thought, what he was going through...I handled this all wrong, Pep."

"And so did _he_ , damn it!" Pepper said, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking her head. "God, Steve, don't you start with me; I don't want to hear you blaming yourself without forgetting that Tony did, in fact, do a great job at _not helping_ when it came to this! You two needed this talk, Steve, you _know_ you did. He's just—"

"Leaving for Afghanistan," Steve choked out. "Pepper, he _left me,_ he's leaving for _Afghanistan_ , Pepper, Pepper _help him,_ I _can't_ anymore, Pepper _please_ —"

Pepper's entire body went cold.

"We'll get him back," she whispered, her hands shaking as she cupped Steve's cheeks and tried to steady herself for his sake. "And I'm going to need your help, Steve, whether you like it or not. Because _he_ needs it."

Steve swallowed, running a hand through his hair.

"I...I ruined this," he murmured. "Pep, it's my fault Tony ran. I didn't mean to, but I just—I was trying to do the right thing, the good one...and I didn't make it clear enough, I guess. I shouldn't have kept pushing him away."

" _Neither_ of you were ready for something like this, Steve," Pepper said with a sigh, sitting on the bed next to him. "Look, for all that you two were clearly _made_ for each other, that wasn't enough. You never took the time to figure all this out, and I feel like that made you hesitate. This isn't something you're used to, right?" 

Steve nodded. Pepper patted his shoulder.

"Yeah, exactly. And Tony just expected this to be quick, I think. A one-time thing, then he could just...let go and move on. But he can't, and I don't think he realizes that this is a permanent thing for him. Even though he says he loves you, and he does, Tony has never really been one for the long-term." Pepper sighed. "It doesn't matter. The only way to fix any of this, Steve, is to go get him. Please, come with us. We need you."

"I don't...we can't, S.H.I.E.L.D., I mean...how are we going to get a plane?" Steve asked, shaking his head. Pepper smiled.

"Let's go down to the garage, Steve," she said. 

He was confused, but if he trusted one person right now, it was Pepper. He grabbed her arm and let her lead him downstairs to the team, who had already packed weapons and supplies for the trip, before she beckoned them down into the garage as well.

As they made their way down the steps, Thor embraced Steve, hugging him tight with one strong arm.

"Shieldbrother, all will be well," Thor soothed him. "I know Anthony will return to you soon."

Steve wanted to believe him, he really did. 

As it was, he just gave him a weak smile as Pepper looked up at said, "JARVIS, open up."

 _"Of course, madam,_ " he replied.

The floor before them began to decompress, turning into a staircase; Steve stared in shock as Pepper smiled, beckoning them down the stairs and to the underground hangar.

"Howard built this for his old planes," she explained. "We didn't really use it for much until Tony built a jet for Rhodey as a thirtieth birthday present." She turned the lights on, letting everyone get an eyeful of the enormous jet before them.

"He called it the Quinjet, god only knows why," Pepper said, "but Rhodey has War Machine now, and I think we need this pretty bad, huh?"

"Yeah," Steve said, grasping his shield and wishing desperately it was Tony's hand beneath his own rather than cold steel. "Avengers, Assemble. We need to go save Tony."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Phil's immense emotion plus breaking the 'seal' on the room gave Loki his magic back, just roll with it. And hey look, the Quinjet! Yay Quinjet! How that fit under Tony's house is a mystery but it worked in the cartoon.


	123. Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fanservice is just the best thing, you guys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a lot happens! Some of it is just because I really like shower scenes, you know? Some of it is because Phil is amazing. Most of it.   
> Loki is helping for selfish-selfless reasons, that's the thing; he's doing it for Thor, but it's this singleminded devotion to Thor and Thor alone, for the reason that Loki himself wants to keep Thor forever. Very possessive, this one. Just keep that in mind; everything he does, he does for Thor, but more because Thor is his than for any other reason.  
> P.S. no he'll never be an Avenger, not in the official capacity--though you can argue at this point in the fic that the 'official' Avengers no longer exist period, lol.

Phil swore as he wrenched open the door to the mansion; JARVIS didn't even need to say anything for him to know that the others had left. Loki looked around, glancing about like a curious cat as he slunk through the foyer.

"You needed a shower anyway," Phil said with a sigh. "JARVIS, this is Loki, Thor's brother; I just busted him out of S.H.I.E.L.D. prison and we're both kind of on the run right now. Could you get him a shower and tell me where the team went?"

 _"I, well—certainly, sir. Hello, Loki. Thor has been searching for you for a long time now indeed,"_ JARVIS said. _"Come with me; I will show you where the showers are. As for the team, Phil, they have already made their way to Afghanistan in the Quinjet; based upon the speed of the jet, they will be there in another five hours."_

"Great," Phil said with a sigh. "I guess they didn't wait, then."

 _"They were worried, sir,"_ JARVIS said. _"I would not take offense."_

"I don't, believe me; the sooner we can get Tony safe at home, the better," Phil said. "I'll stock up on weapons; I'm going to need better than a handgun to take on the Mandarin. Loki, follow JARVIS; he's good, you can trust him. He's a friend."

"If you say so, Son of Coul, I have no reason to believe otherwise," Loki replied. "Come, automated one; the Son of Coul is correct." He winced, ruffling his own hair. "Truly, I am in need of a shower."

 _"And food. I have spent months studying Thor's metabolic levels; even accounting for your smaller build, Asgardians need to consume more. You will eat before attempting to cast any more magic; a teleportation spell halfway across the world is out of the question after seven months of torture,"_ JARVIS replied.

"Do we have the time for that, Son of Coul?" Loki asked. Phil nodded.

"We do, yes; the two of us alone won't be enough to handle the Mandarin, and they won't get to Afghanistan for another few hours. Go shower, Loki," Phil said. "I'll get you something to eat." He paused. "Before I do, I have one favor to ask; we'll need a protection spell around the house in case S.H.I.E.L.D. realizes you've been taken."  
  
Loki nodded, closing his eyes. A jolt of blue energy coursed through him, and he whined softly before shuddering and opening his eyes. 

"It is done," Loki said, licking up a bit of blood that had spilled over his tongue and onto his lips. "I will return shortly, Son of Coul. Be safe."

He left, his leather fluttering in his wake as Coulson sighed, leaving to head towards the kitchen.

He made himself a cup of coffee and, for a few minutes, simply sat, staring out the window and gathering his thoughts.

He was an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. no longer; he knew that much. He had walked out of that base as Agent Coulson for the last time in his life. Fury had forced his hand; after this, they ran. If they had to leave to Asgard, they left to Asgard. But he would do whatever it took to keep his team safe.

Taking Agent Coulson off the team had only taken away any influence Fury might have on the team itself. Now Phil Coulson led the team. And he answered to no one.

But he still had a teammate to save.

Phil sighed and sipped his coffee, hoping to soothe his raw nerves. It didn't help, but the sound of the shower running upstairs slowly lulled him into an easy sense of security, if only for awhile. He let himself make lunch for him and Loki both, at ease as he prepared sandwiches, his only worry for now whether or not the god liked mayo.

...

Loki stripped, wincing in pain as leather peeled from bruised, sweat-soaked flesh, making wet sucking sounds as it freed itself from his skin. He removed his boots and shivered in delight at the feeling of the cool air on his feet, stripping off his leather pants and undoing the cotton undergarments beneath, before finally going to work on his top layers, his bruised, rash-covered thighs on display, the sores of confinement pounding a drumbeat of agony on his skin as he worked off his enormous leather jacket.

He freed himself of it and watched it slither to the floor, curling up like a coiled serphent as he continued to undo clasps and belts that clanked and clattered on the marble as they fell. For a second, he flinched, fearful that S.H.I.E.L.D. guards would find him and attack him on the spot, until he reminded himself firmly that he was in Anthony Stark's house, with the Son of Coul to watch over him. The Father of Heroes and Freer of Gods would keep him safe, surely.

Loki relaxed just a bit as he slipped himself free of his undershirts; first, the leather bodice, then the green silks beneath, then, finally, the black top beneath all of it, baring his chest, which, due to the sheer amount of padding covering it, had largely escaped injury, save for his caved-in ribs and a few scattered bruises and sores from the chafe of four layers of clothing.

He sighed, dismayed, and removed his vambraces last; it had been awkward to work the clothing over them, but they and the golden necklace had been all that remained of Thor, for all this time, and so he was more reluctant to part with them than anything else he had worn during his captivity.

Still, he knew a shower wouldn't bode well for either the leather or the gold, and so he slid the vambraces off slowly, setting them aside with tender care upon the bathroom sink, before finally removing his necklace, setting it beside them.

 _"I can explain to you the things we keep for showers on Midgard, if you would like,"_ JARVIS piped up, making Loki jump. _"Thor took to them quite well. I'm sure Anthony was less than thrilled about buying the exfoliating cleansers in bulk, but he certainly appreciated it."_

"Wait; _Thor_? This is my Thor's shower?" Loki asked. JARVIS whirred.

 _"I thought you would appreciate it,"_ he replied, and for an automaton, Loki thought he sounded extraordinarily amused _. "If you are ready, I can start the water?"_

Loki gave up on trying to understand the automaton and nodded, opening the glass door. 

"Please," he said. "And...not too hot, if you would be so kind."

 _"Certainly, prince. Your natural body temperature has already been taken into accordance,"_ JARVIS said. Loki nodded, but as he opened his mouth to thank the machine, cool water poured over his shoulders and Loki's thanks were cut off by a low moan of delight.

He listened to JARVIS recite the soaps, salts, exfoliating creams, and other oddities Midgardians used for their baths before finally cutting him off and asking simply, "What does Thor use the most often?"

JARVIS gave him a list of Thor's general repotoire of bath products. Loki nodded, satisfied, and started with the shampoo.

He flashed back, for a moment, to the memories of the three of them in the baths; Thor pulling at his hair while he squealed in protest at the hot water, Frigga doing her level best to manage two boys flinging soap and scented oils absolutely everywhere, and as he worked his thin, pale fingers through his hair, he was reminded for a second irrevocably of his mother, and the gentle way only she had ever touched him.

Loki shook his head and dismissed the memory, continuing on in his scrubbing and coating his body in a fine, filmy layer of soap bubbles. He smiled, pleased, and let the water sluice over the film, making it shine like the Bifrost as it slid down his skin and took the grime, dirt, and general refuse that built up around a body after so long in captivity right down the drain, a burbling, contented swirl building up around the center.

Loki ran another quick rubdown over his whole body, sighing in pleasure at the feeling of the soft, pillowy cloths and the general feeling of cleanliness; it was like shedding a skin, leaving him naked and gleaming and quite content.

Before he had time to focus on it, the glamour slipped, spurred on by the cool water; Loki allowed it, too worn out to recast the magic. He would do so after the Son of Coul prepared their meal. 

_"Oh, is that your Jotun form? Fascinating. Thor described it to me, but I have yet to witness it in the flesh, for obvious reasons. Might I have a few pictures for reference? My databanks include information on your people, but few, if any, pictures,"_ JARVIS said.

Loki blinked, surprised, as he washed his hair out, soap running down his shoulders. He had other concerns right now—namely, the warm, clean feeling of the grease and grime in his hair being banished with utmost force—and so he simply nodded, not thinking through the automaton's request.

"Wonderful. If you might hold still for just a second, Loki..." JARVIS said. 

Loki paused mid-wash, hearing a few whirring clicks before JARVIS finally hummed, content, and replied, _"Thank you, prince. Might I recommend the lotion on the far-right rack before I leave to check on Philip? I believe it would soothe your skin best."_

"Yes, thank you," Loki said, scrubbing his scalp and punctuating his sentence with a sigh of bliss. "Tell the Son of Coul I will join him shortly."

 _"Certainly, sir,"_ JARVIS said, before leaving Loki to his shower in peace. Loki hummed, pleased, and began to go back to work on his hair. He was rather fond of it, and letting it slowly rot under the burden of grease and grime captivity had shunted upon him had been a painful experience; he'd scratched his scalp bloody more than once.

Loki rubbed it gently now, despite the filth he flinched away from, the desire to purge it away; he thought of his mother, the only woman that had ever been gentle or kind to him, and Thor, who had loved his hair so, treated it like it was the finest obsidian from the mines of Svartálfaheimr, and so he remained gentle even as the urge to purge and scour overtook him.

He wondered, briefly, as his wet hair fell atop his shoulders, whether or not he ought to cut it, should the Son of Coul have a knife. Then he considered what Thor might think of his hair—perhaps he would prefer this? 

Loki hummed, shaking his head and letting his hair fall about his shoulders in wet, thick strands. No, he would wait to see Thor's reaction first. Curiosity won out in this regard.

Loki scrubbed himself down one more time before doing as JARVIS had suggested and taking the bottle of lotion off the shelf, turning off the shower with the press of a few buttons. Loki left the shower and toweled himself off with a soft red towel, patting himself dry before slicking his entire body up with the lotion. It stung at first, but once the initial sting faded, the pain of the sores and rashes had subsided, just a bit.

Loki sighed with relief and put on a warm, thick robe that was a deep, emerald green, shunting his clothes aside for the time being. When he got his strength back, he would perform cleaning spells. For now, his brother's robe would suffice.

He wondered why his brother had chosen green; he'd never had any real affinity for the color, and yet...

He looked down at the green slashes of silk between the midnight leathers that glowed dully beneath his line of sight. 

Loki hugged the robe tighter around his thin, pale form, and sauntered off with a smile on his face, eager to find the Son of Coul and hopefully, a plate of food waiting for him as well.

...

It was a common misconception on Asgard that Loki did not eat, surviving perhaps on the souls of small children, fresh lamb's blood, or virgin tears.

That was absolutely the _stupidest_ thing Loki had ever heard, and he had gone on bar crawls with Thor and his men as they attempted to woo the tavern maids.

He ate just as much as his brother, simply slower; his windpipe was not a massive cavern, unlike Thor, who seemed to inhale his food with little worry for choking on any of it. He was usually last at the table for exactly this reason, picking determinedly at an entire boar before being satisfied.

Thankfully, Thor must have mentioned something, for the Son of Coul awaited him downstairs with a sandwich bigger than his fist, and an odd-looking pile of food beside it. 

He quirked an eyebrow, but did not speak of Loki's coloration; that, he was grateful for. They would talk later, perhaps. Though truthfully, Loki was more curious now about the food that lay before him.

"Those are potato chips," Coulson said by way of explanation. "They're not very filling, but they're good, and the salt will help you feel better. Clint and Natasha eat them by the bagful after desert missions."

Loki nodded, looking at the glass set beside the plate; it was filled with an odd, bright blue liquid. He inclined his head in a show of respect.

"I was unaware you were a sorceror, Son of Coul," he said. "It is an interesting color for an elixir."

"It's a Gatorade, but okay," Phil said. "Just drink it, please; it'll help. And call me Phil. I've saved you from a magic holding cell, I am pretty sure you can be on a first name basis with me, mortal or not."

Loki smiled; it was brittle and thin, worn down by captivity and loss of Thor, but it was genuine, and Phil knew that was a rare thing indeed.

"Thank you, Phil," he said, sitting down gingerly at the table, as if fearful of opening wounds. At Phil's querying look, he added, "I sustained sores and bruises from my captivity—nothing major, but they make it rather hard to sit. Once I eat, they shall be healed."

"That's good to hear," Phil said. "Are you ready for a fight, Laufeyson?"

Loki gave him a look, his eyes bright and calculating.

"A fight, Son of Coul, is not normally my area of expertise," he said. "I am no warrior; I am a mage, and this is certainly not my battlefield."

Phil frowned, but this stopped him for but a second; he just surveyed Loki before the agent within him told him exactly what to say.

"Thor is next," Phil said. "If they get Tony, I have it under direct information from Fury that, for his perceived rebellion regarding your captivity, they will use the Tesseract to kill Thor."

Loki's eyes widened. For a few minutes, he did not speak.

"I will kill them all," he said. "If that is what it takes to keep him safe. I would fight a hundred wars to keep him safe."

"Good. Fight this one and he will be," Phil said. He didn't feel guilty for lying; the honest truth was that if Fury knew he could have Tony, he would harm the others as well. This was just...perhaps a stretching of the truth.

"I need to eat," Loki said. "I need energy to replenish the wells of magic within me; after that, I will be ready."

"All right," Phil agreed. "You eat, then; I'll check in with Pepper."

"Please," Loki said, making Phil blink, surprised, "don't let Thor know I am here."

"...Why?" Phil asked. "Loki, you've both waited months—"

"And so he will return to me, and Anthony Stark's life will be even further in jeopardy," Loki replied. "They need him there. I will be with Thor. And once I am, nothing shall take me from him again, monster, mortal, or magic alike. Still...I might wait. He has been in danger far too long for me to take Thor for myself now. Not when we still have an eternity together."

Phil looked at him for a long, slow minute.

"Very well, then," he said. "If you're going to find yourself making noble decisions more often, you might as well get used to answering to me."

"Don't get used to it," Loki said, stuffing a handful of potato chips into his mouth to hide a smirk. "Once Thor is returned to me in one piece, none of you will have him for a week. Or a month, if his stamina is as good as he says it is."

Phil prudently shoved those mental images from his head and went to go call Pepper.


	124. The Cat Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Midnight comes back. Loki is most definitely a dignified god of Asgard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put the kitty in for this reason and this reason alone, I'll be honest.  
> Also, ugh I love Phil/Loki banter that's so not okay on so many levels and the movie ruined all my fun. All of it.   
> Anyways! Enjoy the new chapter~

Steve hadn't spoken. No one pushed him to do so, a grim sense of understanding hanging about all of them, tough and confining. Clint flew the plane, his hands steady despite the confusion that had erupted around him; his hands were always the surest part of him, no matter what went on otherwise.

Pepper's phone rang, and for a second, she jumped with shock before glancing at the caller ID. Sighing in relief, she hit the green phone button and accepted Phil's call, crossing her legs on the seat and leaning back comfortably before responding, "Hey, Phil."

 _"We're done,"_ Phil said. _"Fury took me off the team. I have no reason not to believe he's stripping you of your command as well."_

Pepper didn't so much as twitch.

"This won't stop us," she said. 

_"No, it won't,"_ Phil said, his voice warm with amusement. _"I just thought I should probably tell you."_

"Thanks, Phil, much obliged," Pepper said. "So what's your real business?"

 _"I'm heading over as soon as I can; Athena's going to get me into the S.H.I.E.L.D. hangar and grab a jet, if possible. If the Helicarrier's operational, maybe..."_ Phil sighed. _"I never know with that thing. One week it flies like a charm, the next week some bird-themed idiot has blown it out of the sky."_

"That birdbrained comment offends me," Clint piped up with a grin on his face. Phil rolled his eyes.

 _"Not now, honey,_ " he said _. "Pepper, listen to me; I'll be there as soon as I can. The Mandarin has magic; whatever any of you can do against magic, do it. And get Tony out of there, first and foremost. If we kill him, good. If we don't, but Tony's safe and sound, let him live, for all I care. The team is my priority."_

"Even now?" Pepper said. Phil laughed. It was hollow and worn, but it rang true.

 _"Even more,"_ he said. _"Once we're really rid of S.H.I.E.L.D., well, that's when the job of raising them gets even harder. We'll be on our own, Pepper, just you and me, with six superheroes to manage."_

"Oh, god," she groaned. "You're right. I hate you so much." 

_"I'm glad to have met you too, Pepper. If all else fails, it was an absolute pleasure. Keep them safe."_

Pepper smiled.

"Even now," she said. "Of course I will. You keep yourself safe, agent."

_"I'm not—"_

"You can get rid of your title. You can't get rid of the name," Pepper told him, a pleased smile on her face.

 _"Well played_ ," Phil said, before promptly hanging up. Pepper allowed herself one last smile before turning to look at her team. 

They looked back at her, their faces wide and innocent and concerned, even in their grief, and she couldn't help but want to hug them—especially Steve, who looked so hopeful for any last scrap of good news he could find.

"Fury took Phil away from the team," she said. "Not away from us. There's a difference. He'll be meeting us in Afghanistan soon."

Clint gripped the controls of the plane until his knuckles turned bone-white, and Natasha pursed her lips until they bruised, but neither of them spoke.

"He'll keep Tony safe," Steve whispered after a moment's pause. "He's a real hero. He...he takes care of his lovers right. I don't...I can't..."

"We will _all_ save him, shieldbrother, enough of this," Thor soothed him, smoothing his mussed hair away from his forehead. "You have been put through enough torment. Do not add further to your burdens, I beg thee."

Steve sighed, his shoulders sagging. He looked out the window of the plane, saying nothing.

"It took awhile," Clint finally said after almost ten minutes of excruciating silence. "It always takes a long while, especially when it came to me. I was a stubborn, prideful shit; a lot like Tony at his worst, really. He had to dig down deep to get to the roots of all my problems. You're gonna have to dig even deeper when it comes to Stark; guy's a fucking labyrinth of roots, all tangled up in the dark. You ripped the stem outta the ground, Captain, but roots are resilient like that." 

His eyes got dark and murky with sorrow and pain. Natasha still didn't speak, but she put a gentle hand on Clint's knee and squeezed. He shook his head.

"Coulson's been doing this for three years now, and he still doesn't have all the roots. Suspect he won't, not ever, but the plants that grow back...that shit's mangeable, even if it's like, I dunno, fucking hemlock or whatever," Clint said.

He waved his hand about and grimaced. "The point still is, Tony's a fucking basket case and you've had him for seven months, during which you've done more than most people did in thirty years. Relax, Cap. We'll fix this. And next time, you'll bring a better shovel."

"All I have is a shield," Steve murmured, his voice defeated. Clint just shrugged, unimpressed.

"Then get a better shield," he replied.

Steve was quiet for another second, but they could all tell it wasn't the same kind of quiet; it was a cool, contemplative quiet this time. 

He stood up suddenly and went to the back of the Quinjet. When he came back, he had a glimmering shield strapped to his glove, the chrome, sapphire, and sharp, fiery crimson gleaming with electronic interfaces working beneath the surface.

"Howard built my shield to fight in wars," Steve murmured. "Tony built this shield to protect himself. In the hopes that I would do the same someday. And so I will. Like I was always meant to. Just...with a better shield this time. One from Tony's heart. Not Howard's. Not mine. I'm not the one who needs to be saved."

Pepper knew it was a lie, but she let him have it. It was grand and heroic and glorious as the dawn they flew towards, and a soldier's courage, faked or not, was just what they needed for what lay beyond the horizon.

...

Phil sighed and turned back to Loki, who had taken a few token bites of the sandwich before devouring a bag and a half of chips, determinedly working the second one over with fistfuls of chips in his mouth. He didn't look graceful, but he looked untroubled, and Phil would much rather have him silly than serene, at least in this case, after all he'd been through. Plus, he noted, JARVIS would always have pictures of this, and there was blackmail awaiting every steady crunch of chip.

They could take the agent out of S.H.I.E.L.D., but they could never take S.H.I.E.L.D. out of the agent.

Phil smiled, pleased. That was about to bite them in the ass, starting...whenever Loki finished his sandwich. Speaking of...

"Loki, enough potato chips," he said, trying not to think about how he was chiding a god of mischief and chaos like he was a five year old, "I only gave you those for a quick energy boost and some salt; you need to eat your sandwich."

"It takes time," Loki said with stiff dignity, swallowing a huge wad of potato chips before doing so, "I do not eat as fast as my brother, Son of Coul."

"Could've fooled me, with the way you're shoving potato chips down your throat," Phil remarked, before sighing and taking the bag away from him. He got away with it without being turned into a frog solely because Loki was too shocked someone would actually take potato chips away from him to do something about it until it was too late. 

"Loki, please," he said, "that's not good for your stomach. Too much sugar and salt after starvation mode's kicked in will mess you up. Even if you're a god, you'll probably vomit, or at least want to."

Loki shook his head, ignoring the pertinent gurgle in his stomach.

"Don't be ridiculous, Son of Coul, I've handled worse meals after rougher conditions and I shall be fine, I simply need to—"

His stomach had other plans, and they ended with Loki, as promised, throwing up on Phil's shoes.

He could almost feel the Italian leatherworker who had hand-crafted the shoes screaming in protest.

"Okay," Phil said, "I needed to get changed anyway."

"I'll eat my sandwich," Loki said, muttering a spell to wipe his mouth and the floor clean as he spoke. 

Phil could count it as a win, he figured. His shoes, however, would probably beg to differ.

...

 _"He is strange,"_ JARVIS remarked as Phil got dressed, adorning himself in body armor beneath his suit and grabbing the duffel bag full of weapons he had assembled before lunch. " _I did not expect someone so human. Or..."_

“Vulnerable? Me neither. Give him a bit to get his bearings; he’ll be back to the snotty brat Thor told us about soon enough," Phil said. "I think he likes me, though, which may be why he’s behaving this way. He’s like a cat, really, which is terrifying.” 

_"It is indeed,_ " JARVIS agreed.

Phil sighed, pulling new shoes on and starting downstairs, the bag left in the foyer before he finally went into the kitchen to sit and eat his own lunch.

To his surprise, he found Loki with Midnight on his lap. The kitten mewed at Phil in greeting before going back to nibbling at Loki’s fingers.

“A black cat,” Loki said after a few moments of contemplative silence, “with green eyes.”

“Thor’s Christmas present,” Phil said. “It’s a celebration we have here on Midgard; we give gifts and eat ourselves sick. Tony gave that to Thor.”

“I see,” Loki said after another beat of silence. “Tell me, what does he call it?”

“He said you would be offended if he named a fluffy beast after you,” Phil said, noticing the way Loki smiled as he explained it, “and so he named it Midnight.”

Loki’s eyes clouded over with memory for a moment; Phil understood and so he let the god be, going back thousands of years to a time where he and Thor had been happier. He owed him that much, if only for a second.

“It is an odd creature,” Loki said. “As liable to scratch me as it is to lick the wounds or nuzzle my hand.” He smirked, warm and crooked. “I can see why he thought I might be annoyed.”

Midnight began to purr, slow and steady. Loki rubbed his stomach before chewing determinedly on another bite of his sandwich. Phil sat across the table and joined him.

“You have yet to contact Odin,” Loki said. “Even now. Why is that?”

“I trust you,” Phil said. “You got out. We have you on our side. And you are a far more powerful mage than the Mandarin could ever hope to be.”

“The ego boost is appreciated,” Loki said. “Not as if I needed it, but that’s rather the point of having an ego; unnecessary things to bring you enjoyment.”

He huffed. “That said, do you have any idea what we are up against? In terms of magic and in manpower?”

“The Mandarin has a gang called the Ten Rings; they’re nothing to concern yourself with, as my lovers will handle them easily. That’s their area of expertise. However, regarding the Mandarin himself, he has ten rings that give him power; we don’t know the limits of all ten, but aside from basic elemental magic, there is apparently one that also affects machines, considering how he damaged the arc reactor,” Phil replied. “Truthfully, we don’t know much about the guy. He’s new; Stane took care of the last leader.”

“I see,” Loki said with a nod, sipping his drink while Midnight curled up and went to sleep on his lap. “You worry.”

“I do,” Phil agreed. “Tony intends to take him on. Tony is by no means weak, but his heart is injured, and we believe it has something to do with the Mandarin’s magic. He thinks breaking his rings might undo whatever spell is on him...though truthfully, I’m not sure either way. I don’t understand magic.”

“I do,” Loki said. “It is entirely plausible the Mandarin affected Anthony’s heart, as you say. Breaking the source of the power would work...but that may take more finesse than he is capable of giving. If he is so dead-set on revenge, I am the last person to wish on convincing him otherwise, but I must insist on myself or Thor fighting with him. He will need magic, detest it though he may.”

“I figured as much,” Phil agreed. “If my lovers do as I suspect, which I am sure they will, they will have Steve go after Tony while they handle the perimeter with Bruce. Thor will go after Tony as well in an attempt to stave off the Mandarin should he encounter him; you’ll be able to find him easily enough?”

Loki nodded. Phil smiled, relieved.

“Good, that’s settled. Finish up your sandwich and sleep for an hour or so; we have a bit of time to kill.” He paused. “If you could, would you perform a scan on Tony for me? I just...want to know where he is.”

“I need something of his, and then I shall,” Loki said. “My strength comes back in floods; there is little that can keep magic from me for long, Son of Coul.”

“I know, Loki,” he said. “Hang on.”

He went and grabbed the blanket Tony and Steve always shared from the living room; Loki accepted it with a nod before clutching the soft fabric and closing his eyes.

“He is almost at Afghanistan...but...there is another person imprinted upon the fabric. They’re coming for him. He’ll...be safe. Even though he doesn’t know it. I don’t know why...but there’s quite a bit of hurt there.” Loki opened his eyes and shook his head. “A lover’s quarrel, Phillip?”

“I don’t even know anymore,” Phil sighed. “Thank you, Loki. Go get some rest. Thor’s bedroom is the second to last on the left." 

Loki nodded, but before he did, he gave Phil a good, long look with his bright eyes, wet and red as fresh blood. 

"I am curious, Son of Coul," he said, "as to why you are so unperturbed by my appearance. I am a monster, a loathsome Jotun. But you have yet to turn away."

"Look, I don't know how they regard Jotun on Asgard," Phil said, "but I'm not an Asgardian, nor, frankly, is this the strangest thing I have ever seen. You're not a monster. You're not even a little off-putting. I'm just...incredibly used to this sort of thing. You're about on the level of an average Thursday."

Loki was quiet. Slowly but surely, a small smile spread across his face.

"Very well," he said. "If you say so."

"Of course," Phil said. "So, now onto more important matters; bed. Move it. JARVIS, if you could show him the way?”

_“Of course, sir. Come along, prince. Let flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”_

Loki blinked, baffled; Phil chuckled at the reference before shaking his head and allowing the god to dismiss it, making his way upstairs with Midnight trotting eagerly behind.

Phil made himself another cup of coffee and sat on the couch in the living room, too wired and anxious to sleep. He thought only of Tony, running into the thick of battle, and Steve, running right after him.

If either of them died, he would never call himself a hero again. Not when the greatest among them were gone.

Phil took a sip of his coffee, ignoring how it burned his throat.


	125. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang's all here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'll be in Washington DC until Thursday, and possibly lacking in internet. That said, I will try to have an update if I do have net; if not I will update as soon as I return! Here's an AatA update to tide you over until then.

Tony closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, ignoring the ache in his chest as he curled up on the seat of the plane, hugging his knees. His briefcase sat at his feet, his armor so close despite how utterly broken and vulnerable he still felt.

He could almost hear Howard screaming at him from beyond the grave, damning him for what he had done to Steve, but that was fine, just fine; Tony would happily damn himself.

He would never admit it on the strength of his pride alone, even forgoing the numerous issues that stood as roadblocks in his path, but he had fucked this up. Utterly and without remorse. He had broken Steve; what he had said, he had said to hurt him, and he knew it. Steve...Steve was right. Tony would never have a chance to tell him, but he was right.

It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to tell Steve he loved him, but the thought of the Captain pushing him away and rejecting him after that one wonderful week had been what pushed him to ignore it and drink. What else could he do? Confessing was out of the question, damned coward that he was. And so he had gotten drunk, offered himself up, and hoped for the best.

Steve, darling Steve, had taken him up on it. He should've known better than to think Tony knew better.

And he had let it continue. A better man would have broken it off and continued to wait. Tony was not that man. He had waited his whole life for this, and damn it, his impatience had said he would have it, whether or not he really deserved it. And he hadn't; he had made that clear. Not even because of this argument; the entire relationship, good lord.

Tony sighed and hung his head, defeat making his shoulders heavy and his eyes water. Yeah, the entire relationship had been one nervous breakdown after another on his part.

And just when things were starting to get good, and he could hope he was moving on, the Mandarin had gone and fucked up his already half-ruined heart and spoiled the whole thing. For that alone, despite his terror and the tight agony in his chest, making it so hard to breathe, it was worth going back to Afghanistan, if only just to be able to rip off his hands and crush his rings of power for that.

It wouldn't change anything, though. None of Tony's bluster or bravado could take back the truth; he had hurt Steve, screamed at him, in fact, over having _sex_ for god's sake—and he had left him. Steve hadn't at least realized he was a horrible lover and left him, like he deserved. He had, in fact, wanted to fix things...and Tony only ended up breaking them even further.

Tony ran a hand through his hair and looked away, trying and failing to hide a sudden well of tears in his eyes. Even if he deserved it, it didn't matter; he would never be able to fix this now. And that was entirely his fault. 

He felt sick to his stomach, his entire body tense with the pain, his hands shaking and his palms wet with panic and sweat. He was frightened, so frightened...and this time, there was no shield to hide behind, no white star that would light up the darkness. Not for him. Not ever again, even if he came back from this alive.

Tony had been the one to leave. He told himself that; he tried frantically to convince himself he was right, that Steve hadn't wanted him anyway, and he was just holding out on him, and Tony wasn't really what he wanted or needed, and Steve could do so much better, someone who wouldn't hurt him...someone with a better heart...

It wasn't hard for Tony to believe that. He spent the rest of the plane ride drowning in those thoughts, in fact, and as they touched down in Afghanistan, the pain in his heart had been replaced by a dead, barren sadness; the kind that would never allow happiness to bloom for him. The arc reactor dimmed, as if in response.

Tony just ignored it, suiting up and soaring off.

...

The team landed the Quinjet a few miles away, about five miles from the Mandarin's base; Steve knew the extent of the perimeter guards, and coupled with the cloaking devices Tony had put onto the jet, it would be safe. He turned around to congratulate his brilliant darling before realizing his mistake and falling silent.

Pepper put a tender hand on his shoulder, squeezing it carefully.

"I'm going to stay here," she said, "and keep an eye on the Quinjet. This is beyond what I can do, Steve. But what I can do is this; if you need me, when you get to Tony, I've got all the computer systems in the Quinjet plus JARVIS at my disposal. We'll talk to him. And, hell...this thing's equipped with missiles, if it comes to that."

Steve grinned and nodded, kissing her forehead. It was a rough, ragged grin, but Pepper understood and let him hug her tight, stroking her hair as he gripped his shield.

"Keep my other shield on you," he said. "I want that to keep you safe, Pep. Please."

"A-all right," Pepper agreed, nodding and taking his hand. "You keep the team safe. When Phil and I aren't around, you have to lead, Steve. We're on our own now; we don't answer to Fury anymore. And we take care of each other. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Steve promised. "I'll watch over everyone. You included. Keep on-comm with me, understood?"

"Yes, now _go_!" Pepper said. "Stop stalling, Tony's waiting!"

Steve winced, as if she'd knocked the wind out of him; before she could offer him any comfort, any love, Thor had raised his hammer and they were gone in a bolt of lightning.

"Be safe!" Pepper screamed to the winds, who whispered back to her in the soft rattles of sand and sun, "Be safe, I love you!"

Nothing but the wind replied, and it only brought sorrow with it.

Pepper just shook her head and climbed into the Quinjet, turning the computer systems on and enabling JARVIS.

"Keep an eye on them, JARV," she said. "I'll be here when they need me."

 _"You always are, Ms. Potts,_ " JARVIS replied. " _I suspect that is not what the Captain fears. I believe he fears even if he is here...Tony shall not have need of him any longer."_

"I doubt that," Pepper said, snorting derisively, "but...yeah. I could see why he's scared." She swallowed. "Is...is Tony okay? Has he contacted you?"

 _"Silence, madam, silence and nothing more, but...he is alive. That, at least, I can tell you,_ " JARVIS paused _. "Whether he wishes to be or not, however, is not knowledge I have access to."_

Pepper choked down a shudder and wrapped her coat a bit tighter around herself despite the warmth of the cockpit, readying the missiles. Just in case they needed to get out of there fast, she figured.

...

Loki slept for a few hours; though Phil worried about potentially having to startle him out of sleep, and what the unpleasant consequences of that might be, the god had remarkably good timing. No sooner did Loki stumble downstairs, a bit bleary-eyed but with his clothes on, clean and crisp, and his glamour back in place, did he hear JARVIS whirr, " _Sir, the others have arrived in Afghanistan. Are you prepared to leave?"_

"Loki?" Phil asked. "Are you ready?"

"Of course, Son of Coul," Loki replied. "Prepare your weapons; I will be ready as soon as you are settled comfortably with your arsenal."

Phil chuckled at his term and went to grab his guns, strapping two to his hip and keeping the last, enormous gun, powered up by the Tesseract and given to Tony to study, in the bag. Loki's eyes flickered over to it and he raised an eyebrow.

"Powerful magic," he said. "It will be useful, we can hope."

"Let's hope so, yes," Phil agreed. "They probably shouldn't have let us study this sort of thing if they were planning to pull this on us, isn't that right?"

"And they should not have locked me up should they have not wished for the wrath of my brother and his hammer," Loki said with a small smirk. "Yet I find that S.H.I.E.L.D., perhaps, does not consider the full scope of their actions. Arrogance can hobble even the best of men."

"Wise words I find that most of you don't follow," Phil sighed and shook his head. "That's all right, that's why I'm here. Do you need a focus point?"

"I do," Loki said, his eyes beginning to glow a soft blue before he closed them. "But...it seems..."

He paused, and throughout the whole room, Phil began to hear a soft, ambient hum. He tensed at first, before realizing how soothing the hum was and relaxing despite himself; he smiled, content, and sat on the couch nearest Loki.

"Magic," Loki said, "I feel magic. Thor's magic."

He began to glow, his whole body shimmering as the hum intensified, growing in scope as the room began to waver, making Phil wince and clutch the armrests of the couch.

Loki opened his eyes, which now shone a bright, immaculate white.

 _"Brother!"_ He shouted.

Then everything went silent.

Just after it did, the entire room collapsed in on itself, taking both men with it.

...

They arrived in Afghanistan as if trans-continental travel was no big deal and Loki did this every Tuesday. Then again, being unfazed by general oddities was in a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent's job description, and Loki's entire galaxy was connected by a giant tree of some sort, along with a rainbow bridge. Perhaps this _was_ normal.

Whatever the case, Phil still had a pounding headache. Loki grunted in annoyance and dusted sand off his jacket, stretching out and grumbling at the heat.

"You didn't say this place was inhabited by Sutur himself," Loki muttered. "By Bor's brains, this land burns hotter than Muspelheim in the middle of summer."

"Deserts tend to," Phil said, despite having only the vaguest idea what Muspelheim was. "In any case...where are we?"

"My brother's magic was here," Loki said, "and so I used it as a focal point. I cannot think he used it far from your friends; we will find them shortly, I assume."

A lot sooner than they had thought, in fact. Phil heard the sound of a cockpit opening, then a scream of delight; before he knew it, Pepper Potts had run up to him and threw her arms around him, hugging him tight and beaming with happiness as she clung to him.

"Oh, thank _god,_ you're here," she said. "We need you. It's so good to see you, Phil."

Loki shifted from foot to foot awkwardly, desperate for contact and affection and yet utterly adverse to the idea of being attacked like that, or another warm body up against his own slowly roasting one.

Thankfully, she turned around and gave him a sharp look; the flinch was less energy burning in him than prying her off of him would have caused.

"You spent the last six months breaking your brother's heart," she said to him. "He was going nuts without you, you know; couldn't stand not being with you."

"I know," Loki rasped, cursing the woman for knowing his weak point not even a minute after meeting him. "I have missed him too."

"Good," she said, satisfied. "My name's Pepper, Pepper Potts; I know yours, Loki. How did you get here?"

"Teleportation," Loki said, pride in his tone. "I brought us here. Where is my brother?"

"Nearby," she replied, "they just started out, it won't take you long to catch up. You brought weapons?"

"Yes, we did; sorry about the lie, but Loki feared Thor would come back for him and jeopardize the mission. This was a hell of a lot faster than the Helicarrier," Phil said. Pepper chuckled.

"Okay, fair enough; the two of you go, I'm waiting here to try to contact Tony. And bring air support if needed, of course," she kissed Phil's cheek and, after a moment of contemplation, Loki's as well. "The both of you go; they need you."

Loki watched her leave, an expression of utter bafflement bold on his face. Phil tried not to laugh.

"We should go," he said, shaking Loki out of his shock. The god started violently before nodding.

"Yes, we should; allow me a moment, and I will be able to locate Thor," Loki promised, his eyes glowing blue. "Follow me, Phillip."

Phil nodded in agreement and did so, trailing after the god as he went through the desert sands, his magic searching feverently for the lightning that gave it such life.


	126. Extremis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony in pain and everyone else getting involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, I'll be honest; this was before I knew they were actually going to bring the Mandarin in! So, err...this will probably contradict a lot of IM3 canon, but I essentially kicked any post-Avengers movie canon out the door anyway, oops.

The Mandarin scanned his security systems with a cold, dull eye. He was incurious and bored; little had occurred to challenge him in the past few months. He had laid his plans within Tony Stark, but they had needed time to come to fruition, which had allowed him to set up a few camps, spreading throughout Afghanistan. If he was lucky, he would have the whole region under the Ten Rings' control in a year's time, perhaps. 

His musings on the future were interrupted when a blast rocked the far side of his base; this time, he surveyed his security systems with a bright gaze of interest, curious as to who had come to challenge the dragon in his lair. 

A gleaming suit, done up in crimson and gold, as if he fancied himself a phoenix of old, stood in the rubble. The faceplate was emotionless, sleek and sterile, but he could practically feel Tony Stark's rage and hate seething through it. The Mandarin smiled. 

Very well. So be it. There would be no rebirth for this phoenix; only the dragon's fire. He would learn this sooner than he thought. 

The Mandarin adjusted his rings and stood in a swish of silk robes, leaving the depths of his laboratories to confront Tony himself. 

...

Tony's heart raced beneath the reactor as he stood in the wreckage. He would do this. He would stand on his own; he hadd a spine of steel and body of iron. He didn't need a shield. He didn't need Steve. 

He heard a low, all-encompassing hum that vibrated throughout the armor and resonated through his skin, making him wince and tremble, panting slightly as he felt something in his chest seize up, the shrapnel itself making his veins ache.

"JARVIS, what in god's name _is_ that?" He asked. He heard a whirr that sounded an awful lot like worry.

 _"I believe that is magic, sir,"_ he said _. "The Mandarin has arrived."_

"Let him come," Tony said, though his rational mind screamed in protest. "I don't care. I'm here to get my heart back for myself. And no one else."

 _"If you say so, sir—Tony,_ duck!" JARVIS roared, a staticky crackle that made Tony duck down out of shock more than the command itself. A blast burst through the wall near him, and would have taken his head off had JARVIS not warned him. Tony turned to face the source of the blast, repulsors glowing in challenge, only to see the Mandarin standing before him, his robes rippling in an unseen wind.

"Dramatic," Tony remarked. "But rather limiting. Dressing up like some two-bit Chinese emperor seems sort of ridiculous, wouldn't you agree?"

"I am descended from the _khans_ of old, not the weak gentry of China," the Mandarin said. "I have come to reconquer this land as they once did. You are in my way, Stark; a persistent pest, with rather grating tendencies towards resurrection."

"Ripping my heart to shreds didn't kill me. Having some idiot in a green robe end up doing just that would be an insult, don't you think?" Tony said. The Mandarin chuckled.

"Jest all you wish; I know you come here a broken man. Hide behind your armor all you want, Stark, but beneath the iron, you are festering. More importantly...you are alone." The Mandarin paused, surveying the room around them. "Tell me this, man of iron; where is the Captain? Has his mighty shield abandoned you in your hour of need? _Truly_ , noble."

 _"Shut up about Steve_!" Tony shouted, before he could stop himself, remind himself that he'd left him, that he hated him, he did, but—"This has nothing to do with him! This is about _us_! You took my heart and _ruined it_ , you son of a bitch, and if I have to rip your hands clean off to get it back, I _will_!"

"Oh, _I_ did? It seems to me that you came to this place already broken, Stark. But, no matter; destroying you will be simple enough," the Mandarin replied. He frowned and shook his head after a moment's contemplation. "Too simple, in fact; there is not enough pain involved in a simple bursting of the magic within you to ravage your body. No, I am curious to see you stripped down and broken; to get underneath that armor and see what lies within."

The Mandarin smiled and raised a hand; the rings upon it glowed with an inner fire as the humming started up again, making Tony's entire body shudder and twitch of its own accord. He groaned in agony, feeling his heart pounding furiously beneath his chest as something began to bubble beneath his skin.

He screamed as the Mandarin flexed his fingers; the magic in Tony's heart pulsed, making the reactor glow, whirring wildly as sweat ran down his skin and he managed to choke out, "JARV—all power to the reactor, JARVIS, _JARVIS, help me, Steve_ —"

Tony choked on his Captain's name as the Mandarin forced him to his knees, pain making his eyes water, black dots eating away at his vision. He felt copper in his mouth, bright and red.

"No, do not scream," the Mandarin said, "you are not dying. There will be plenty of time for both of these things later."

His rings glowed with power as he plunged his hand through the metal of the suit, his fingernails scraping the underarmor; Tony shuddered at the violation, too agonized to scream despite the utter _wrongness_ that seared his brain. 

The Mandarin lifted the armor up as if it weighed nothing, his rings glowing with power while he carried the limp, gleaming form away, the triumphant glitter in his eyes brighter than any funeral pyre. 

Tony's last thought was one of blinding pain before, to his utter relief, he blacked out.

...

A few hours prior, Fury sighed in frustration and considered the situation, standing in the hangar and observing what was transpiring inside. Maria didn't look nervous to the untrained eye, but he recognized her tics and twitches by now; she was panicking. Rightly so, perhaps, but he was a bit disappointed; didn't she know he had a plan?

"Sir, Loki..." She trailed off as Fury tsked, shaking his head.

"No, Loki isn't important right now. Who took him is. Agent Coulson stole him out right from under our noses. Agent Coulson. Also known as the one man in S.H.I.E.L.D. who would never refuse an order or disobey a superior. He took the Avengers and he went rogue," Fury said. "And he took a god of chaos with him."

"We've been waiting for this moment, sir," Maria said, her shoulders hunched. "We knew it would happen. He's never been the same since after the Nefaria incident, but...something this drastic..."

"He's desperate. That's good, I'm going to use that," Fury replied. "I want as many squads as you can manage out in Afghanistan as soon as possible."

"For support?" Maria said, befuddled. "I thought you said Tony—"

"Tony is still the sole executor of this mission. I want field agents down there to take down the Avengers. They've gone rogue and we need to deal with that before they intervene on our territory." 

Maria nodded without putting any thought behind why; it would break her if she did.

"Certainly, sir," she replied. "I'll contact the World Security Council for authorization—"

"No, you won't," Fury said. "We can't afford that right now. The Avengers are a danger, and I will not be constrained by red tape; is that understood?"

Maria just nodded once more.

"Of course, sir," she replied. "As for doctor Danvers..."

"She'll be dealt with," Fury said. "Go make the arrangements, Hill. The Avengers are my top priority right now."

"Of course, sir," Maria replied, turning and leaving his office without a word. Fury watched her go before getting up and taking his gun with him.

He went down into the labs and headed towards Athena's workstation, only to find a completely sterile worktable. 

He frowned, a twitch developing in his jaw, before he shrugged it off. No matter; he would deal with her later. She'd been a constant undercurrent of rebellion for too long. 

For now, though, the superpowered rogues were his major concern.

Fury just went back upstairs to start organizing the field agents, a small, wolfish grin beginning to develop on his face.

Across town, Athena Danvers put her feet up on Tony Stark's couch and smiled, stretching out. The door had been unlocked, and JARVIS had informed her of protection spells on the house. Stark could let her crash here until this was all said and done. Consider it payment for all his medical needs.

Athena grinned and lit a cigarette, satisfied.

...

Steve stood at the edge of the Mandarin's base as Bruce adjusted his glasses.

"He'll have guards," Clint said, taking out an arrow and adjusting his bow. "His type always do."

"We'll handle those," Bruce said. "Would you mind holding my glasses, Clint? I hate having to replace them."

"No prob, doc," Clint said as Bruce handed them to him. "You ready for the big guy?"

"As ready as I ever am," Bruce admitted with a rueful smile. "Are you two?"

"Hell, in a place like this? He'll be an advantage," Clint replied. "Don't worry 'bout us, Bruce. You go be a hero. Steve, Thor, you're going in after Tony?"

"Aye," Thor said. "You can ensure none of the Mandarin's footsoldiers come after us?"

"All that and a side of Julienne fries," Clint promised. "Now haul it, Tony needs you."

Both Thor and Steve looked baffled; Natasha just sighed.

"Ignore him, now go!" She snapped. "Bruce, I can hear them arriving, if you would be so kind—"

In response, the Hulk vaulted forward and flung aside the guards that were coming their way. Natasha nodded.

"Good, good. Clint, my love, if you would come with me..."

The two of them slipped away, faster than Steve could register; he shook it off, trusting them to do their jobs, and beckoned to Thor.

"C'mon, big fella," he said. "I have a very stubborn Stark to save."

"Aye, but consider this," Thor said with a smile as he lifted his hammer, "most warriors such as us would enjoy the chance to save their true love. Enjoy this, Steven; it is what we were made for. To fight and defend."

"And to avenge," Steve agreed quietly. "It's why we're here."

"Of course," Thor agreed, clasping his shoulder. "If you're ready?"

The two of them looked at each other and shared one quick, savage grin before bolting for the Mandarin's base.

...

Eventually, Loki stopped and stood stock-still, his head tilted and his eyes glowing.

"He is close," Loki said. "I feel him."

A roar punctuated the desert; Coulson chuckled despite himself.

"I assumed as much," he said. "That would be the Hulk. We're definitely close."

Loki huffed and nodded, starting forward.

"We need to get in undetected," he said. "Hold on one moment, I've got a spell to cast..."

Loki closed his eyes and began to murmur to himself; Coulson watched a silver band of light weaved around them both before fading away easily. 

"They will not notice us until I lift the spell," Loki said. "I'm afraid that means your lovers will not know of your arrival, but if all goes well, it will not matter; this will be done quickly. Are you with me, Son of Coul?"

"I broke you out for a reason," Phil said. "You have my gun, of course."

"Useful," Loki agreed. "Now, we must hurry; I am certain my brother has found his way into some trouble or another by now, and I would rather the oaf not get himself hurt."

Phil could almost feel Loki's unchecked longing, but looking at the soft, tender fear in his eyes, he did not speak of it. He just nodded and drew his gun, following after the god as they made their way through the fighting like shadows in the bright desert sun, slipping into the base and going after the Mandarin.

...

Within the depths of the Mandarin's base, Tony groaned and twitched, agony making every muscle spasm feel a hundred times worse. The armor had been taken from him, and he had never felt so _vulnerable_ , so naked and cold. He could see the armor gleaming nearby; the Mandarin had kept it intact, for future studies. His focus right now, however, was Tony, and the circle of light within him.

"You are an interesting man, Stark," the Mandarin said as he hooked up a few monitors before connecting wires to the arc reactor, thin fibers that slipped between the reactor and the rim. They sent a jolt of power through Tony's body, making him scream; the Mandarin just watched as a picture of his chest appeared on the monitors, the inner cavities of Tony's chest easily revealed to him. He tsked.

"I've always wondered why one such as you, with so much talent and potential, would allow yourself to be hindered by such flaws. Your love of drink, of women, of the trivial pursuits of the hedonist mind, all these things that conspire to ruin you. You are constantly at war with yourself and your brain, allowing it to be ravaged by immature, unimportant concerns," the Mandarin said. "Nonetheless, I desire your mind and what it has to offer."

"Tough," Tony managed to spit out, "I'm taken. Try some other genius; I've heard Parker's still single."

The Mandarin ignored his joke as he took out a single vial that glowed a soft, shining silver. Tony tensed before he could stop himself; the Mandarin chuckled in amusement, turnied back to him.

"There are other genius men I could use, Stark, but none that understand technology quite like you," he said. "That was why I thought you most fitting for this project of mine."

"Oh, boy," Tony said. "I'm a bit above your average high school science fair, though."

"As is this," the Mandarin said smoothly. "This is a virus; those who developed it call it Extremis. I call it a way to use you the way a mind such as yours was _meant_ to be used, Mr. Stark."

"Well, that's kinky _and_ useful," Tony replied, despite the pit of fear blooming in his stomach, choking and poisonous. "So, you look like the type of villain to tell me exactly what it is and how it works."

"Why not? It will be within you shortly," the Mandarin said. "The Extremis virus will make you my own personal supercomputer; a mind focused only on data, on all the knowledge that the world of technology has to offer. Should I hook you to an external source and use you as my power, I will have the world conquered in a matter of days."

"Getting a bit lazy there, Mandarin," Tony said, despite the fact that he found it increasingly hard to breathe, "didn't Genghis Khan take over all by his lonesome? He didn't need a supercomputer slave to do all the work for him."

"No, he did not," the Mandarin said, "but then again, we live in a new age, Anthony Stark. The age of technology is upon us, and who better to be its messiah than you? You will bring a new world to these people— _my_ world. If, of course, you survive."

"Ah, and here we go with the fine print," Tony rasped. "So, how about we call this one off? I mean, as great as it would be to look up porn whenever I wanted, I'm a bit more discerning than that, I mean, have you _seen_ the Internet lately, I could just—"

The Mandarin came over and pressed a wickedly long fingernail against Tony's tongue, cutting him off. 

"A computer does not need a voice," he said. "If you do not still yours, I will do it for you. And it will be much, _much_ more permanent."

That was just fine by Tony. He was forgetting how to breathe anyway. 

He just nodded, trying not to let the agonizing constriction in his chest give away his fear, despite the panic attack that gripped him with fearsome force. The Mandarin took a syringe off the worktable beside the two of them; he raised the vial to the syringe and extracted the shining silver virus, filling the syringe up.

"What if I say no?" Tony managed to choke out. "I mean, I'd rather not, let's be honest."

The Mandarin raised his hand, his rings glowing with power. The tension in Tony's heart seized up and made him scream, agonized; he could see a dark splotch on the screen growing bigger, wider, and his arc reactor whirred within him, working overtime. 

"Then I let the clot within your heart kill you," the Mandarin said. "Possible life or certain death, Anthony Stark. Is that not the gamble you've always played?"

Tony shuddered, closing his eyes. He was out of retorts, out of ways to win. His armor was worthless, and he didn't deserve a shield. Not anymore.

He was limp as the Mandarin injected the virus within him, and allowed himself to stay as such for a few minutes. 

Then the agony wracked him, and for a longer time than his tortured brain could account for, Tony screamed his throat bloody.

Something constricted his chest and surrounded him in utter darkness. He stopped screaming after that. 

The arc reactor's light dimmed.


	127. Closer and Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A curtain call. A recall. The players assemble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the length; the next chapter would be hard to fit into this one, as you will soon see.  
> If you've read A Man and His Toy Soldiers, say hello to Aaron and Bobby again! If not, it's not important. I just like making SHIELD agent OCs, as Athena attests. It's a fondness of mine.  
> Since it isn't spoilers, (it's the first lines of the chapter), I think it is important to clarify; the Mandarin was essentially prepping Tony's body for Extremis; his magic back when he attacked him and the reactor before was poisoning his body so the virus could take hold better, which is why he had all that heart trouble, and what that clot was.

The Mandarin sighed in frustration as he observed the vitals readings. He had made his own adjustments to the virus after taking it from Hansen and her fools at A.I.M.; the germination of the virus had, in fact, been what he put within Tony months before. It set the foundations up for the virus itself without downright injecting it, and allowed the body to conform to the best settings possible for the Extremis virus.

This would speed up the process significantly, lasting an hour at best, but the pain and the acceleration had a higher chance of killing the virus' host. Not that the Mandarin worried much; if there was any fool he thought tough enough to survive, it would be Anthony Stark. 

The cocoon kept his screams silent, as well, and for that, the Mandarin was immensely grateful.

He made himself a goblet of rice wine and sat down in front of his security monitors, observing the area carefully. For the first half hour, he saw nothing; then, a single jet. He watched them land five miles away, and made a note of it; perhaps he could send guards out, but...

Before he could weigh his options, he noticed, from the opposite direction, ten jets coming in closer; as he keyed in a command to observe the jets through his security cameras, he saw the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo emblazoned on each side.

The Mandarin sighed in distasteful frustration and stood up, contacting his guards and barking orders in Arabic for them to go after the S.H.I.E.L.D. troops. They went and did as told immediately; the Mandarin smiled, thin and dark. As useful as Stark would be once Extremis had completed, he might let these guards live—should S.H.I.E.L.D. not kill them first.

The Mandarin sipped his wine and checked Tony's vitals. Such an elevated heart rate; panic, pain, fear? All of the above, more likely than not. For a second, he almost wished he could hear the exquisite screams. There would be plenty of time for that later, however. For now, he had an attack to attend to; he would return in half an hour to find Anthony, dead or alive.

The Mandarin swept out of the room in a flash of green and a whisper of silk.

Beneath the cocoon, Tony slept; however, he slept fitfully, agony making his limbs shake and his chest convulse. In his sleep, he cried out for JARVIS, cried out for Steve, for someone, anyone, and got no reply. Just the hum of static, of electricity slowly winding its way through his entire body.

...

Agent Landen sighed and drew his gun, looking over at his partner. A few years in S.H.I.E.L.D. had changed Bobby, and Aaron, frankly, wasn't sure how to feel about it. He had become more hardened, more worn. The green had faded and withered, replaced by the harsh brown rasp of winter. It kept the soft, vulnerable parts of him safe under the cold...but still, Aaron despaired.

"I'm not surprised," Bobby said. "Coulson's never been the same since the Nefaria incident."

"No, he hasn't," Aaron agreed with a weary sigh, "guy changed for the better, Bobby. That just don't last long around here."

Bobby didn't respond, drawing his gun. Aaron put a worn, calloused hand gently on the back of his neck. 

"You're not gonna kill 'em," he said. "You'd never stand a chance, an' neither would I. You stay with me, you understand? We're gonna stay safe."

Bobby glared at him, but Aaron had experience and seniority; a sharp gaze leveled his way and Bobby backed down, sighing and slumping his shoulders.

"Damn it, Aaron, you can't go soft on rogues just because you liked them," he snapped. "That's not how S.H.I.E.L.D. does things, you know that!"

"I do," Aaron agreed. "But this ain't S.H.I.E.L.D., this is Fury's petty grudge against the only people stupid and brave enough to defy 'im. I fight for S.H.I.E.L.D., for my country; not for the Director. He's a man, same as anybody else. And fighting a war because of one man seems a bit extreme."

Bobby just looked away and stayed silent. Aaron didn't mind. He knew Bobby would listen to him. That was how partners worked. Fury could order them to do it himself, and if Aaron told him no, Bobby would still stand firm. Bobby was a good boy, even if it was buried under a thousand winter's snows.

Aaron stroked his hair once, affectionate and careful, before looking at the other field agents. None of them looked pleased to be there; he could say the same. 

...

Clint and Natasha paused for a split second to realize something; S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were swarming the perimeter, and coming right after them.

"Oh, you've got to be fucking joking," Clint sighed, climbing up onto the Hulk's shoulder. "Hey, buddy, we gotta go! Let the Mandarin's guards handle these guys, we're going in after Tony!"

The Hulk grunted an agreement, holding a hand out for Natasha; she climbed up and let him put her on her shoulder, clinging to his neck as the Hulk grinned, vaulting easily over the agents and smashing his way through the outer wall of the building. Clint ducked bullets and turned around, swearing heavily as he fired off arrows. 

"There's like, ten units out there, damn it! If they come after Tony, we're fucked!" Clint snarled. "Damn it, damn it, Bruce, I need you to make a wall!"

The Hulk slammed a few more walls into rubble, creating a barrier between the inner sanctum of the Mandarin and the outside fighting. Natasha sighed with relief.

"That won't hold long," she said. "We'll need to remain here for awhile until either the agents kill the guards or vice-versa. Right now, I just need more dead bodies."

The Hulk growled agreement, setting them both down and holding the rubble steady. It would help, but they all knew it wasn't a permanent arrangement, and right now, they needed to figure out a long-term.

For a second, Clint and Natasha tensed; it felt like someone had kissed their cheeks. They passed it off as a breeze through the rocks, shaking their heads and drawing their weapons.

...

"They will be fine, Phillip," Loki said. "We must hurry; I can hear my brother approaching." He tilted his head back, his eyes closed; he looked on the verge of rapture. "Can you not smell the lightning?"

Phil did; the burn of ozone was a comfort at this point, a reminder Thor was near. He, however, was not reacting _quite_ as strongly as Loki was. Loki looked like he was quivering on a knife edge of ecstasy.

"I can," Phil said. "C'mon, let's not let the boys hog the glory."

"True," Loki admitted. "Forward, Son of Coul."

"Well, we have to know where we're going..." Phil sighed. "I can't get into contact with JARVIS on my phone, and I don't know _why_."

"Interference from the Mandarin," Loki suggested. "I would not trouble myself with it; he has positioned his base in the center. Else why would he build all this protection?"

"True," Phil admitted. "So how do we—"

Loki raised a hand, and a burst of blue energy smashed through the walls, devouring the sturdy rock and steel hungrily. 

"I normally prefer my magic for subtler things," Loki remarked, "but time is of the essence."

"Right, right," Phil agreed. "Lay on, MacDuff."

Loki looked at him, utterly baffled. Phil just smiled and beckoned to him as they both headed forward; to Tony and to Thor.


	128. Meet Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, conflict resolved.  
> Well, I hope it seems real or legit or...like, in any way decent. This all seems to cram a lot in at once and for that I'm sorry; this is the climax after all. There'll be some more tightening of loose ends later on! For now I just hope you enjoy!

Tony felt binary in his veins and had never been happier.

The pain made every atom within him feel razor-sharp, but the _systems,_ the data pumping through him—it was so close to complete, but the vast gulf between his mind and the true knowledge, the power, god, it ached worse than the bones in his body. Hell, not just his bones; it was like someone had lit him on fire and added salt to the open, slowly roasting sores. 

But he could _feel_ the computer systems close by; they were chattering eagerly to him, and it was quiet now, so quiet, but the voices were growing stronger with every second, and he couldn't help but shudder beneath the cocoon; this time, however, it was a moan of pleasure.

The Extremis virus had almost settled itself within Tony's body. Almost, but not quite; it was not long now. 

The Mandarin had returned, observing Anthony's vitals. He could hear destruction around him on all sides, but it didn't bother him a single bit; he had a living computer at his disposal, and how useful would it be if Tony's first act as his slave was to destroy his old friends? He would have him broken to his will forever.

He heard a shuddering gasp from within the cocoon and knew it was almost time. Taking a scalpel, he began to slit it open, peeling the carapace back.

Tony lay shuddering on the table, the arc reactor whirring at a breakneck pace; he groaned in agony, clenching his eyes shut tight as the Mandarin lifted him up by the throat.

"Allow yourself a moment to enjoy your humanity, Anthony Stark," he said. "From this day onward, you are Extremis; you are my computer, my slave, and through you, I will conquer. It should be a simple matter. After all, you are without your shield."

"No, he isn't."

Tony's eyes flew open. Before he could open his mouth to speak, or trust his eyes to see what was unfolding before him, a whirling red, white, and blue disc hurtled towards the Mandarin, striking him in the back. 

Captain America and his mighty shield stood before him. 

" _Tony,_ " Steve whispered, and it was like a promise, soothing his aches and draining away the agony of Extremis. "Tony, I'm here."

Tony had dreamed of this sort of thing before; back when he'd been tortured, there were plenty of times where he dreamed of Pepper coming to save him, of Rhodey storming in, carrying him out safe and sound. Sometimes he'd even dreamed of Steve himself, defrosted just in time to save him.

He shook his head in denial of this new dream, refusing even the faint hope of fantasy; Steve hated him now, Steve would never, he didn't deserve it, he didn't—

Steve came over to him and took his hand, warm and real. 

"M-me too," Tony rasped. "I'm...I'm here."

Steve smiled and nodded, tears running down his face. 

"It's going to be okay," Steve promised. "Come on, we'll get you out, come on—Thor, let's go—"

" _No!"_   The Mandarin roared, his rings of power glowing. "You shall _not_ take Extremis from me!"

A burst of electricity flew from one of his rings, striking Steve in the side; he was flung into the wall, where he collapsed. Tony cried out; Thor snarled, swinging his hammer.

"Damned cur, you will pay for that," Thor growled. "Anthony, behind me, I will—"

"Thor?"

Thor dropped his hammer.

Loki stood before him, healthy and whole and alive. His coat glimmered in the dull light, his hair was falling around his face, and his eyes were bright with love and life as he held his hand out to grasp Thor's own.

"Loki?" Thor whispered, his hand shaking as he went to grab ahold of him. "Loki, is it truly—"

The Mandarin struck him with a blast of fire, and Thor screamed in terror as his brother was burned to ashes before him, his mouth open in an expression of horror and agony.

He didn't even pick up his hammer; he dove at the Mandarin, swinging wildly and roaring in agony, burning tears running down his cheeks as he pounded out his grief.

Then he heard a familiar laugh.

"Really, oaf, when are you ever _not_ going to fall for that?"

Thor looked up, and through his tears, he saw his brother, alive and true. He was real, he was whole, he was alive, and he stood above him with a smile, still holding out his hand.

Thor took the hand that was offered and let his brother pull him up to stand beside him. Once he was standing, Thor slugged his brother in the arm playfully. Loki groaned, swatting his side.

"I was attempting to distract him so Steven could recuperate. I'm _helping_ ," Loki said, preening.

"And so you are," Thor replied. "And I have missed you so dearly."

He cupped Loki's neck and for a brief, brilliant second, longed to pull him close and kiss his lips, parted with such soft confusion and relief. His neck was bared to him, pale and creamy, and Thor _wanted_ —

He wanted, but he needed to protect. And so he settled for a quick, tender kiss, his lips brushing Loki's forehead, as he turned around to see Phil Coulson, holding an enormous gun trained on the Mandarin.

"So help me god, you take one more step towards Tony, and I will blast you to atoms with cosmic energy. Do _not_ fuck with me right now, I am at the _end of my rope._ " Phil snarled.

"He must be," Steve said with a soft laugh, standing up on shaky legs, "I've never heard him curse like that."

Phil's face went bright pink and he averted his gaze.

"Uhm, I—if—if I'd known you were in the _room_ , Captain, I'd have _never_ —"

Steve just grinned, and Phil focused back on the Mandarin.

"Get Tony out, _now_ ," he demanded. "We've got—"

"No, I've got this," Tony murmured, and something in his voice gave them all pause. "I can do it."

The Mandarin grinned, rising to his feet. His robes flared out around him, and he crackled with power and rage as he held out his hand. Tony felt an agonizing whirring in his brain, the data of his braincells beating at his skull.

"You think so? Very well, Stark," he said. "Extremis was made to serve _me_. As you'll soon realize, so you have been as well."

Tony just snorted, shrugging off the pain as he sent the data a command.

"I don't serve S.H.I.E.L.D.," he said, "and I sure as hell don't serve you." 

Gold began to seep from his skin, an underarmor forming. The Mandarin tensed; Tony remained still, his bearing placid. Not even a twitch betrayed his next move.

A chunk of armor hit the Mandarin in the back of the head as it zoomed to Tony's side, the armor reassembling itself.

" _No_!" The Mandarin roared. "I did not give the command—"

"I did," Tony said. "Extremis is _mine._ And it gives me so much more than your magic."

The Mandarin snarled, raising his hand and sending a blast Tony's way. The magic crackled and burned, eager to devour.

In response, Tony raised his hand; one of the security monitors detatched from the wall, taking the blast for him. All the machines in the room were humming with life, with promise, with _Extremis._  Tony tilted his head back and smiled.

"I can see through to the sky," he said. "There are satellites up there, and they're all mine."

He turned to Steve.

"Your shield," he said. Steve smiled.

 _"Your_ shield," he replied. Tony laughed.

"Okay, ours," he said. "Just this once, I'll share."

Steve went to toss it to him; Tony shook his head.

"Nah," he said. "No offense, Steve, but you know I hate being handed things."

He tilted his head, and his eyes flashed blue; the shield rose up and returned to his hand, vibrating with all its mechanisms bristling within. 

The Mandarin snarled, summoning energy from all ten rings. Thor looked at his brother, silent pleading written all over his face; with a nod, Loki began to murmur feverently beneath his breath, and just as the Mandarin released the energy, Loki began to glow bright blue.

The magics hit the shield, but surrounding the metal was a thin blue force field; Loki grinned with relief as the shield held firm, bolstered by his magic. Tony pressed forward, pushing the vast waves of magic back with the shield, the armor glowing and his reactor burning brighter than a star within his chest as he punched right through the blast of magic and grinned.

 _Full power to unibeam,_ he thought, and his armor _listened_ ; Tony felt the chestplate hum with promise as it engulfed the Mandarin in a blast of concentrated power. 

He still remained standing, staring Tony down with bright, wicked eyes; Tony sighed, frustrated, and threw up his hands.

"Fine, fine, we'll play it your way," he said. "Good old fashioned hand to hand combat."

He slugged him in the face. The Mandarin staggered; throwing up another blast of magic; Tony deflected it easily with a swipe of the shield, the magic rebounding and crumbling the wall nearby. Tony grabbed the Mandarin by the throat, holding up a single hand.

 _Repulsors,_ he thought, and they obeyed. Tony grinned as he was hit with the full force of the blast.

"Well, actually; I hate old fashioned, and besides, I'm a computer now," Tony said as the Mandarin crumpled, "so this kind of _is_ my version of hand to hand."

"You're a _what_?" Steve asked. Tony sighed. Steve would never understand, never want him back, especially not _now_...

"I'll explain in a second," Tony said, grabbing the ten rings of power off the Mandarin's limp hands. "I need to trash these so I can finally stop worrying about magic clots of computer viruses fucking up my aorta."

Steve just sighed, shaking his head and waiting for the inevitable explanation.

 _Repulsors, blast away,_ Tony thought, and they did as asked; another twin blast, the repulsors shooting through the roof, and the ten rings were vaporized neatly.

Tony dropped the crisped golden circles and closed his eyes, letting the armor fall away piece by piece. He felt frightened, still; exposed and vulnerable, almost naked, before the man he had done his damndest to push away. Computer for a brain or not, his emotions remained; a curious mix of love and agony seeped through him as finally, the helmet fell away last, leaving him entirely exposed.

In response, Steve cupped his cheeks and met foreheads with him. He did not kiss him, not yet.

"Are you all there, Tony?" He said, his voice heavy with concern. Tony nodded.

"All there and then some," he said. "This Extremis thing...god, Steve, I can feel my armor, it's like another part of me...JARVIS, all my computers, they're just...they're in my _mind,_  they  _are_ my mind, and you...you..."

"Is there room for me in there?" Steve whispered. "With all that...is there room?"

"For Steve Rogers?" Tony said, with tears shining in his eyes. "I'll delete the whole system to make room for you." 

Steve beamed. Tony just laughed, nervous. 

"It's a good thing I don't have to, though," he added hastily. "I'd hate to be some four-gig flashdrive after all this."

Steve looked baffled; Tony just smiled.

"What I mean is yes, Steve," he said. "Before all this, you were a part of me. I don't see...see any reason why that should stop. If...if it's what you want."

"Only if Tony's telling me he wants it," Steve said firmly. "Not Extremis. Not Iron Man. Not Howard. I want Anthony Edward Stark, and _only_ Anthony Edward Stark, to tell me he wants Steve Rogers as his, no matter what happens, and no matter what we go through." 

Tony grasped his hands, but before he could speak, Steve shook his head.

"No, wait—I know, you said I ask too much, and don't...don't give enough. I'm sorry, Tony. I'll go first," Steve said. "I want _only_ you, Tony, and I want only to _give_ myself to you. You have me. You'll _always_ have me, and everything I have to give. I can't shield myself from you. Tony _, please_."

"You...you deserve better," Tony murmured, hanging his head. "Someone...someone who won't ask for so much."

"Why wouldn't I want someone who wants all I have to give?" Steve said. "Tony, it's okay. We've got a lot to fix. But I want to do it together. Please, Tony, would you let us? Can you trust yourself—can you trust _me_ enough to do that?"

"I took my armor off for you, didn't I?" Tony rasped. "Of course. Of course. Oh, god, of _course_ , Steve _please_ —"

This time, Tony kissed him first, and Steve _knew_.

Tony was kissing _Steve._  Not a relic, not Howard's fantasies or hopes, not the armor meeting the icon; it was just Tony and Steve, holding each other tight, and stripped down to the barest essence of each other. They met there, together, and realized that was all they needed, all they wanted. In that kiss, they gave it freely, uninhibited by shields or armor or alcohol or decades of ice.

Steve held Tony tight, even when they finally pulled away. He smiled down at his lover and stroked his hair.

"You don't _feel_ like a computer," he teased, "and you sure don't kiss like one, either."

Tony just grinned, helpless to do anything else as tears sprung up in his eyes again. Steve's acceptance soothed the last of the pain Extremis had brought him; he hugged his lover tight.

"I'm sorry," he said. "This was a bad idea, but Fury said it was the only way to fix things—"

"Wait, _what_?" Steve said, and something in his voice made all of them flinch. " _Fury_ told you to do this?"

Tony looked up at him, baffled.

"Uh, yes," he said, "he told me and Athena the anti-magic fields wouldn't work, and that I had to destroy the Mandarin's power rings."

"He told me you refused to use the anti-magic fields and wanted to go after the Mandarin," Steve said, a knife-edge building in his voice. "He said you had asked to go yourself."  
Tony shook his head.

Steve got quiet.

"I'll kill him," he said. "My shield, Tony."

"Cap, wait—" Phil shook his head, interrupting. "There are S.H.I.E.L.D. agents swarming the perimeter, and we can't just run, he's probably back at base _, think_! Tony's safe, we need to focus on that! Now come on, we need to leave and regroup with the others before this place caves in!"

Steve snarled, but Tony took his hand and kissed his cheek, soothing him.

"He's right," Tony said. "Come on, Steve. We have to go."

Steve nodded, and Phil beckoned them all back the way they had come, the group moving quickly to rejoin the rest of their team.


	129. Nearer the End to Thee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, really.  
> It's weird to think about for me too. I don't feel like it should be over, but it almost is.  
> I dunno. I just don't know. I'm glad...but sad, and baffled, and...yeah.  
> If it helps, there'll be sequels.

Clint grimaced with pain, drawing his last arrow and looking over at Nat. The rubble was starting to crumble, and he could hear people hammering away at it; he took her hand in his and squeezed.

"Hey, babe," he said. "I love you, okay? No matter what happens, I love you so much."

"And I love you, Clint," Natasha murmured. "Do not worry. All will be well."

Clint smiled and strung his bow, nocking the arrow and preparing to fire. This was the last shot he had, and he'd take it.

 _"Stand down, Barton!_ "

Just, not yet.

Clint and Natasha looked up to see Phil running towards them, gun in hand and gods in tow, Tony and Steve behind him. The Hulk roared in relief, reaching out to pat Tony's head gently. Tony just grinned, patting his enormous hand in kind. 

"Phil? When did you get here?" Clint and Natasha asked. Phil shook his head.

"It's a long story, we'll have time to tell it later—just get down, we need to—Thor, Loki, _go—_ "

The brothers did as asked, Thor's hammer bursting through the rubble and crackling with lightning as Loki blasted the rest of it away. Phil held both his lovers close, shielding them from the blast; the Hulk stood over Steve and Tony, Steve holding his shield over Tony as well.

Loki grumbled, spitting dust from his mouth and muttering in protest, but it didn't last long; when he looked up, he saw a good twenty S.H.I.E.L.D. agents with their guns trained on Thor. 

His eyes widened, before suddenly being obscured by crackling, bright blue energy.

 _"No!"_ He snarled, raising his hands as power glowed around him, "You will _not have my brother!"_

The blast made the foundations of the Mandarin's base shake, crumbling to pieces behind them; it knocked the agents back and made Thor wince, the power washing over him. Loki snarled wildly, tense and trembling, until Thor reached to stroke his hair, hushing him.

"Enough, brother," Thor said. "They will not kill me. They cannot. Calm yourself; there will no more pain, Loki, I assure you. I am here."

Loki went limp, sagging agreeably against Thor's broad chest. He beamed, stroking his brother's hair in relief.

Steve brought Tony up with him, holding him tight as he surveyed the battlefield.

" _Where's Fury?"_ He snarled. "I'll kill him with my bare hands, damn it!"

"No, you won't," Tony interrupted him, taking his hand. "Don't, Steve. Please. You're too good for that. Not that he doesn't deserve it, but not from you. Not like this. There are other ways of dealing with him that don't involve hurting you."

Steve snarled, shaking his head. Tony sighed, stroking his back and kissing his cheek, holding Steve close and reminding him that he was safe and alive with the comforting weight of his armor, his body, leaning on him and holding him tight. It took Steve a few minutes, but eventually, his shoulders relaxed and the wicked light left his eyes.

"So...how do you suppose we deal with him, then?" Steve asked. 

"I might have an answer for that."

They all jumped, until Phil recognized the man who had spoken. He sighed with relief and managed a thin smile.

"Agent Landen," he said. 

"Phil," Aaron replied, and that one word had more respect in it than he'd ever heard as Agent Coulson. "Good to see you."

Clint and Natasha relaxed as well; at a querying look from Steve, Phil explained, "This is the man who led the rescue team to get my lovers away from Nefaria. Agent Landen, this is my team."

"So I could figure," he said. "Only people you'd go running through Afghanistan for is your team." 

He surveyed them all before sighing heavily.

"I'm gonna tell you something, and after that, you're on your own 'bout what to do with it," he said. "Fury told us to come out here and come after you, 'cause you'd gone rogue. That sorta thing usually needs authorization by the WSC; they have to eval if the rogues are a threat or not." 

Aaron gave them a grin, big and wolfish. "He didn't get that authorization."

Phil was quiet for a second. Then he smiled, equally wolfish in reply.

"Thank you, Agent Landen," he replied. "Take care of your partner. I think an extended vacation after all this would be a good idea. And get the other agents out of here; fighting's over. We disappeared without warning, of course."

"Of course," Aaron agreed. "Take care of them, Phil. All of them. They need you."

"I know," Phil replied with a small smile. 

He turned and beckoned to his team; Thor looked at Loki, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, _fine,_ " he said, "but I want another sandwich after this. And five bags of potato chips."

"Three," Phil replied.

"Four," Loki said. "Or we will all cram ourselves into the jet with Ms. Potts and fly home for eight hours."

"...Four it is," Phil agreed. "Let's just pick up Pepper first."

"I can do that," Tony said. "Hold on."

He closed his eyes and murmured something beneath his breath; his hands twitched and they could hear a hum in the distance.

"Summoned the Quinjet," Tony said by way of explanation. "Y'know, I'm starting to really like this Extremis thing."

"Pepper's going to have a freakout," Phil replied. Tony laughed.

"Hacked through the jet to the voice controls. She knows," he said. Phil sighed.

"She'll still have a freakout," he said. "You should just assume that by now, Tony, I mean honestly—"

His lecture was cut off mid-sentence as the Quinjet soared overhead before alighting down in front of them. The conscious agents stared in shock. Phil just watched as the door opened and Pepper stormed out, running up to Tony, throwing her arms around him, and then slapping him in the face.

"That was _ten years off my life,_ you _ass!_ " She shouted. "What the hell do you _mean_ you're a _computer!?_ "

"It's a long story," Tony said, amused. "And I'm not a computer, I promise. You can probably get away with legitimately calling me a sex machine now, though."

"You're horrendous," Pepper said, beaming. "I'm so glad you're safe, I missed you so much."

Tony grinned and kissed her forehead.

"Missed you too," he said. "And...look, I think we need to take the long way home. There's a few things I need to arrange, but I'll need time to do them; plus, having Loki with all his magic intact would be helpful."

"...All right," Phil agreed, "can I ask what you're planning?"

Tony grinned.

"You'll see," he said. "Now come on, everybody in, we've got work to do—well, I do, you all need a nap, you've been out here kicking ass on my behalf. Move it, people!"

The others watched as Phil and Pepper sighed affectionately and herded their charges onto the plane, getting them all tucked away before getting on themselves.

Phil turned around one last time and saluted; Agent Landen saluted back before he could stop himself. 

Phil smiled, shut the jet door behind him, and a minute later, was gone, taking the Avengers with him.

There was a moment of silence.

"They're all he has," Bobby remarked, and some of the brittleness had crumbled away in his eyes. "And he needs them, right?"

"Yep," Aaron agreed. "Like I need you, kiddo. C'mon. Let's go get ourselves a drink; there's a base a couple miles away, and we all need one."

He started organizing the agents, arranging squads and getting them back into their jets for base; it was probably best to stay here for the time being. Going back to where the Avengers were headed, well...it didn't seem like a very good idea, was all.

...

The ride home was quiet; an easy thing to accomplish when they put all the kids down for a nap, Pepper supposed. No one understood what Tony needed to do, but they had all put that aside and let him do it; they all knew Extremis was a new entity, that it would take time to comprehend. 

Everyone was asleep aside from Tony, in fact, save for Pepper herself, who had been tasked with flying the jet and keeping an eye on the others. She turned around and looked back at them; Steve slept peacefully, his breathing soft and slow and his head resting in Tony's lap as he clutched his shield to his chest. 

Tony didn't move, his eyes closed, and if Pepper hadn't known about Extremis, she would've assumed him asleep as well. As it was, she saw the occasional flutter of eyelids, the twitch of muscle spasms, and knew he was up to...well, something. What, exactly, she was admittedly uncertain...but none of them knew, really.

Still, if she and Phil were now in charge of these people, as she increasingly had a sinking feeling that they were, she needed to know these things more than anyone. She was in charge of taking care of them, and that included their little super-computer robot viruses, too.

Pepper sighed, her shoulders sagging, burdened by the worry. It was alleviated only by the small but powerful gesture she noticed; Tony sat with his hand buried in Steve's hair, his fingers slowly stroking the soft golden locks, as Steve reached up in his sleep and held Tony's free hand, like Tony anchored him in his dreams.

Pepper figured Extremis could be worked out along with everything else; if nothing else, the two seemed eager to do just that.

Eight hours passed on a flight rather easily when naptime was involved; all of them slept like the dead, exhausted from narrowly avoiding becoming just that, and only stirred awake with about a half hour left to go. Once they'd reorientated themselves to the land of the living, they all looked at Tony, curious to hear his plan.

It took a minute, but once Tony's eyes fluttered open and he massaged his aching temples, he gave them a wicked grin.

"So I spent the last few hours going through some S.H.I.E.L.D. security tapes," he said. "Namely, a few that involved acting against the World Security Council and ignoring authorization regulations. Oh, and that whole 'detention without trial' thing we had going on with Loki. I'm pretty sure that would break Asgard's alliance with us pretty fast, which is rather relevant to the WSC's interests, yes?"

"I should think so," Phil agreed with a small smile. "Tony, I take back everything I've ever said about your genius; this tops it."

"Thanks, but it's the supercomputer, really," Tony said. "The deviousness is a hundred percent me, though."

"It has my seal of approval, that's for certain," Loki said with a yawn, leaning against Thor's shoulder. "What do you intend to do with it?"

"Nothing, if our demands are met," Tony said. "I delete the tapes from my memory, we act like nothing's happened and go on with our lives. If we don't get what we want, I upload the tapes to the WSC; I'm sure they'll be more cooperative. Or Fury will be."

"Grand," Loki agreed. "That was worth the cramped trip home. I wish to see the look on his face when you present the evidence, Anthony."

"Yeah, you will, you will; I want all of you with me. God knows I'll need someone to restrain Steve before he beats him to death with his shield." Tony said. Steve grumbled, hugging the shield against his chest. Tony kissed his forehead and smiled despite himself.

"Are we ready, then?" Pepper said. "I can probably land this thing on top of their base. And if I destroy a few floors along the way, so much the better."

"Ready as I'll ever be," Tony replied. "And...maybe just park it somewhere else, Pepper. I'd rather not destroy the building before I get to win this one."

Pepper nodded an agreement, setting course for home.

She managed to land the jet smoothly in the hangar, and the whole group headed upstairs; Tony blinked, surprised, as he entered the kitchen.

"Athena, what the hell are you doing in my house?" He said. Doctor Danvers snorted, stirring a pot of sauce on the stove.

"Making dinner," she said. "The place was unlocked, JARVIS said something about protective spells, and Fury was going to kill me after I gave Phil the keys to get Loki out. Think of this as medical payment, Stark."

"Okay, fair enough," Tony said. "So...it's not safe for you at S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore?"

"Probably not, no," she said. "I told my daughter to pack her shit and leave, too; she's waiting on her partners, but she'll be gone soon."

"She's welcome to come here if she needs to," Steve replied. "Doctor Danvers, I have a proposal for you, first."

"Shoot, Cap," she said. "What's the matter?"

"Tony got a supercomputer virus implanted in him," Steve said with a resigned sigh, like this happened every Tuesday, "and none of us know what it'll do to his body. Do you mind remaining here as his physician and ensuring it doesn't cause him harm?"

Athena nodded before she realized she was agreeing. Once she did, though, she simply thought; how could she not? This was her team.

"Sure," she said. "Now get going; you've got unfinished business with Fury, and dinner's not done anyway."

Steve smiled and hugged her tight, nodding agreement.

"We'll be fine," he said. "Thank you, Athena. Thank you for everything."

"No, Captain," she whispered back, clinging to him. "Thank you."

Steve just regarded her with warm, sad eyes that were full of understanding before he nodded, saluted her, and turned to the team, shepherding them out.

Athena gave herself credit; she didn't cry until they had left, and it was more from happiness than regret or sorrow.


	130. Chapter 130

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly not ready for this to be over, but I know I have to do it. There's only one more chapter, folks.   
> Letting go is hard but honestly, next chapter is where I'm going to dump all of my feelings and thoughts on this story, so hold onto your butts for that.  
> That said, let me say this here; ugh, conflict. This story both was and wasn't about conflict. It's weird to have the villain not be defeated at the climax, but then again, Fury never said he was the villain and I don't think I made him an entirely evil one, either. The fact that the falling action is his defeat speaks more to the idea that SHIELD itself is simply a loose end to be tied up in their lives at this point. It's put them through enough. They've already severed their connections to it, and the end being so final and so much a part of the story where it comes to 'wrapping things up' is, to me, appropriate.  
> Plus, Fury's better than to let this beat him forever. ;3

They pulled up to base and Phil sighed.

"Get your things before you meet us in his office," he told Clint and Natasha. "We're not coming back."

They nodded, slipping out and ahead of the group quietly. Phil adjusted his tie and grasped his briefcase.

"If you're all ready," he said. "Don't worry. I'll protect you."

"No, Phil," Tony said sternly. "It's my turn to protect you. You just keep yourself safe. You've been through enough."

Phil made to protest, but Tony looked serious; he just sighed and nodded, letting Tony lead the way as they went inside.

Tony led the way in like a king, his head held high and his eyes shining. He strode ahead of everyone, his armor still gleaming around him, a better display of might than any crown or scepter could have been. He didn't so much as flinch when they rounded the corner to Fury's office and Maria stood before him, gun in hand.

"Commander Hill," Tony said. "If you wouldn't mind."

"You're being an idiot, Stark," she snapped. "Fury knows what he's doing, you just didn't _listen_ —if you just _listened_ , your team would have been safe, you would have—"

"That might work to keep Victoria safe," Tony said, and Maria flinched before she could stop herself, her chest constricting with panic, "but not with us, Maria. We're not S.H.I.E.L.D. material. Surely you've learned that by now?"

Maria looked at Tony for a long, slow minute. He didn't drop his gaze. 

With her hands still firm despite her hesitation, Maria lowered her gun and put it away.

"Fine," she agreed. "So get the hell out of my agency."

"I'd love to," Tony replied. "Just let me hand in my resignation to the boss, if you wouldn't mind."

Maria stepped aside silently, watching them leave. Phil was the last one to pass her, herding the others forward as Clint and Natasha caught up; before he went with them, he stopped in front of her and gave her a long, slow look of consideration. The woman standing before him wasn't the woman he had met, both of them green rookies, decades ago. But she wasn't a woman he couldn't forgive, either.

"Commander," he said after another moment had passed, "Victoria is not your weakness. She is your greatest strength. You just need to re-evaluate what your real strengths are."

Maria just nodded shortly, gesturing him forward. Before Phil followed after his team, he heard a quiet, hesitant, "You're still invited to the wedding."

Phil nodded, turning and letting her have a moment's peace. She had made her choices, and he had made his; through the love that had motivated them both, they could at least find some common ground, regardless.

Tony actually stopped in front of Fury's door and knocked, polite and prim; three short knocks, before crossing his arms and waiting at the door.

When it was opened, Tony simply smiled. Fury regarded him with a single harsh eye, sharp as flint.

"I knew you were trouble," he growled. "You know how lucky you are I didn't shoot you in that diner? You were _useful_. What makes you think that's a _permanent thing_ , Stark, because—"

"No," Loki said, his irises glowing as the magic within them began to spread. "Oh, no. You will hear Anthony _out_ , Director."

"And what makes you think I'm scared of you?" Fury snapped, rounding on him. "I imprisoned your ass once, god knows I could do it again, if you think you can walk in here and pull this shit on me, Loki."

"Because I already have what I wanted from you," Loki said. "I have my brother back, and he will _never leave my sight again_. You have _nothing_ I want, and I have _no reason_ not to burn this entire building down around you with a single snap of my fingers, save for the look I wish to see on your face as Anthony wins your little _game,_ Fury. I am no hero, and I am not afraid to bloody my hands with you."

Fury regarded him for another long, slow minute.

Then he let them into his office.

"So, I assume you think a display of dominance is going to be enough to get me to back off," he said. "Fluff your feathers, shake out your mane, and I'll go running for the hills, is that right?"

"Well, no," Tony said. "It's not really a display of dominance so much as it is evidence. See, that little mission you sent me on did some good; my brain is officially the world's greatest supercomputer, which means, on my way home from you trying to kill me, I had a few things I could accomplish—namely, hacking your systems."

Fury watched him, impassive, as Tony took out his phone and held it up, his eyes open but blank as he accessed the information.

 _Play the tapes,_ he told JARVIS, who complied immediately; they all watched as Fury gave the order without the WSC's authorization, and, admittedly fastforwarded through the long months, Loki's captivity. Thor's face was pale, his eyes blazing with rage, but he did not so much as reach for his hammer; he knew if he felt it in his palm, he would lose the little control he clung to now.

"Now, there are two people I could send this to that might appreciate these tapes; the first is the World Security Council, who already have issues with the handling of the Avengers Initiative, as the firing of one Agent Philip J. Coulson would prove, and...the Allfather Odin, who, if the tales are to be believed, is a fearsome, warmongering foe who would gladly overrun Earth on behalf of the son that they held captive and tortured for seven months." Tony said.

 _He would be more likely to pass out on his throne, but he tends to do that when confronted with news as of late,_ Loki remarked, the thought resounding through Phil's mind. It took all his self-control not to betray a quick snort of amusement.

Fury did not regard the news with nearly as much amusement; he folded his hands and watched Tony for a long, slow minute, impassive.

"What do you want from me, Stark?" He finally asked. "After all I've done for you and this team, what do you want?"

"For you to stop," Tony said. "Let us go. Entirely. No agents coming after us, no assassination attempts tomorrow afternoon, nothing. We won't get involved in your affairs, and you won't get involved in ours. We want to leave S.H.I.E.L.D. and do our own thing. Hell, after all this, I'm giving you a good deal; no more us, no more drama, no more crazy people flocking your hallways, and, more importantly, you can keep your job and _not_ be murdered by an angry god."

"And you think I should let two agents, one of whom was _raised_ here, and another who I hand-picked myself to train as an agent, just walk out the door with the best handler I've ever had?" Fury said.

"Yes," Tony replied. "You don't deserve them. You've proven that. And besides, are they really worth gambling your life and your job?"

Tony shook his head and grinned, like he was presenting a business deal rather than bargaining with Fury for their lives. 

"Let's be honest, Phil is currently armed with some magic beam cannon that could atomize you where you stood, I have two gods standing behind me, and if I so much as sniffle a little, the good Captain here will beat your head in with his shield. And Phil doesn't want that. Hell, _I_ don't want that. I told them not to kill you. I stand by that. I make good deals; I don't screw over my partners later on, and I do my best to make sure everyone gets what they want. That's how I get what _I_ want. And after all this, you can't tell me what you want, more than anything, is to be completely rid of us? I can make it happen. Just sign the papers and we're gone. As long as you hold up your end of the bargain and make yourself scarce too."

The Avengers stood behind Tony, not quite recognizing it as they did it, but holding hands, linking one another tightly. Tony stood, armored and strong, shielding them all.

Fury was quiet for a few minutes, surveying all of them. Then he met Tony's gaze.

"You know, you've always driven a hard bargain," Fury said. "I respect that. I think we can arrange to walk away from this intact."

He looked at Thor. "You claim responsiblity for your brother, a dangerous menace?"

"Thank you," Loki said smoothly. Thor gave him a look.

"Yes, I do," he said. "Any actions he takes will not reflect poorly on Asgard's alliance with S.H.I.E.L.D. or Midgard as a whole."

"You'll delete those goddamn tapes?" Fury said, looking back at Tony. "I'm sure you can respect a man doing what he thinks is right despite authority's say-so."

"Well, yes, usually; just not when he's trying to kill everyone I've ever cared about," Tony said, his voice dry. "Still, I think it can suffice. They'll be gone as soon as I empty my internal recycle bin."

"And you'll keep all of them them the hell out of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hair, agent?" Fury said, addressing Phil.

"Not for your sake, but yes," Phil agreed. 

There was a pause between all of them. Phil's heart ached with hope; after almost four years, he was going to get to give his lovers all he had promised, everything they deserved, if only...if only this worked...

Phil smiled as something changed on Fury's face. If it didn't, he had a gun.

"Good," Fury said, satisfied. "Then get the hell out of my office."

They all looked at each other, baffled.

"Isn't that what you came here to do?" He remarked.

They were all gone in seconds.

Fury surveyed his empty office before looking down at the files before him.

He didn't even bother to make any notations; he just sighed and flung them in the trash. It was probably better this way; there were always ways to get involved without them quite being under his thumb...and it might in fact make them more agreeable.

Fury smiled, amused. Hill might have a few ideas about that. He was a fair man, if today had proved nothing else. 

So for her sake, he'd wait until after her honeymoon. 

...

It didn't quite settle in that they were really and truly out of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s clutches until they sat down for dinner that night and Clint asked, "So, uh...how are we paying for cheetos now?"

Phil looked down at his wallet, where his now-useless S.H.I.E.L.D. credit card lay. He sighed.

"I'm sure I can put them on the list and Tony will buy them, you just have to learn how to share, Clint—"

"Babysitting money," Tony said with a broad grin, taking a bite of his food. Phil blinked.

"Excuse me?" He said, raising an eyebrow. Tony looked at Steve, who looked sheepish and kissed his cheek in apology.

"Aw, you never told him?" He said. "Phil, you really should check that account I made for you under Stark Industries' name more often. Don't babysitters usually get paid?"

Phil took out his phone and typed in a few access codes, still baffled.

Then he read the number before him on the screen.

He set his phone down quietly and stood up, leaving the room and going outside for a minute. 

Whatever he did out there, he came back to them as impeccably dressed and neutral as he had been when he left.

"Clint, you can have a _lifetime supply_ of cheetos," Phil said. "And a unicorn."

"Fuck yeah!" Clint pumped his fist, delighted. "You have the best job in the world, you know that?"

Phil looked at all the people around him at the table and nodded, his vision blurring before he could stop himself.

"You know what, I do," he said. "I really do. Thank you."

"Don't thank us, we're the ones who need you," Tony replied. "Thanks, Phil. For everything."

"You'd be surprised," Phil said softly. "I guess it's better that way, needing each other."

"Yeah, I guess," Tony agreed. "I mean, that's all that could keep anyone coming back here, let's be honest."

"Not the only thing," Phil said. "But yes, it helps when you've destroyed my car or trashed my room or set my suits on fire."

"Good to know if we ever need another babysitter; Stockholm Syndrome is a plus," Tony teased. Pepper gave him a look of exasperation. Tony groaned. "What? I pay you babysitting fees too, don't you give me that look!"

Everyone just laughed, and Tony relaxed, grinning widely at everyone. As he watched them all chatter and tease one another, he realized that, jokes aside, he wasn't sitting here with his team anymore; he sat with his family at this table. His real one. It had been a long time coming, but he'd found it. And he'd built it himself, like a proper engineer should.  
Now, he mused as he took a bite of dinner, the fun lay in figuring out not just how to build the machine...but what it would do when it got up and running on its own.


	131. The End.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's weird to say goodbye to this.  
> Obviously, work ends. And this was finished like, two months ago anyway. But it wasn't complete in the eyes of the readers, and that's where it matters.  
> I don't know how to feel about it being over and done. I mean, on one hand, it really isn't. There'll be a few sequels, some side-stories, whatever. This thing spawned its own universe.   
> Plus, I probably owe you guys porn.  
> That said, it's not the same. This was THE fic itself, the hugenormous story that launched almost four hundred thousand words of fluff and angst and daddy issues and things. Hell, I got another hugenormous story out of it, too. I'm glad this is ending, but I am sad to let it go. It's done, and I don't want that to mean it just gathers dust, you know?  
> It's complex to say how I feel about the story itself. It was an exorcism, in a way, of all the meta and all the feelings I have on Tony. That led to a deluge of drama and angst and suffering, and sometimes, I admit, I cringe. Sometimes I go 'oh my god, why did I write that?'   
> But it let me let his issues go; I can write him much more balanced now, like I've blood-let myself of all my need to write about his problems. I haven't, but it's a hell of a lot more reasonable now.  
> Sometimes I get frustrated with things because I spent a year writing this; things change, my grasp on dialogue got better, my sentence structure improved, but the beginning is still, well, where I was a year ago, and that does bother me a little. Sometimes I sigh because of drama, or sappy, or things I know better than to do now that I have a grasp on their characters.  
> But I wouldn't have a grasp on their characters if I hadn't written this. I wouldn't know how to write them better if I hadn't written them in this. Any of them.  
> And that makes this story worth it to me, still. It makes it confusing to new readers; to me, it's like reading old fossil records of the writer I was, and the transition to something better is fluid throughout the whole fic, so. This is why we have editors for novels.  
> Anyways, I do love this story. As much as sometimes I get like, well, oh my god why did I write this, I'm glad I wrote this. I'm glad I improved, I'm glad I kept going, and I'm so, so glad I finished it.  
> But enough about me, onto you.  
> I love everyone who saw this story through to the end. It was a long slog, you had no obligation to read it, you did it anyway, and for that, I am immensely grateful. I cannot thank you all enough for doing this. I know it was a long read and sometimes I forgot to update and sometimes I punched you in the heart but I am so very grateful you stuck around anyway. It kept me going.  
> Thank you. Thank you. To everyone.  
> Enjoy this chapter, and don't think of this as an end. It's not over until you forget about it. Hopefully I wrote the story well enough so that won't happen.  
> Actual notes on the chapter itself; okay, realtalk, this was basically setting up some more people in the MCU because lord knows we need them. And it's sappy and sweet and stuff.  
> So Extremis has a healing factor, and I went more with the comics on this one, where that's what fixed the reactor. I don't want to say how different they are, I don't want to risk IM3 spoilers, but if you've seen it, you'll get it.  
> Hope you enjoy. Thank you.

Over the next several months, Tony was pleasantly surprised.

It wasn't like things became idealized, like some 1950s sitcom; Thor still destroyed doors and Loki occasionally set the kitchen on fire, as well as whatever was within his reach when he was bored. Steve still broke things when he grabbed them too hard on occasion, which had led to a few crushed tablets and broken coffeepots. 

Clint ate at odd hours of the night, and Natasha enjoyed sitting on top of the fridge to scare him and wake up the entire house, and Pepper kicked them all out to go spend the summer in Malibu so she could have some peace and quiet for awhile, (which lasted for a grand total of a week before she couldn't stand not having Bruce around and flew out to join them.)

Tony still blew up labs and trashed suits and built new ones at two in the morning, and in the end, Phil just washed his hands of the entire thing some days and locked himself in the bathroom to drink.

And that, in fact, didn't even count the newcomers; Athena was in and out, as was her daughter Carol, but her and her former partner Jessica were working with yet _another_ government organization; something to do with swords and aliens, which Tony personally thought was too much of a bad RPG crossover, but whatever they did, they somehow ended up on his couch half the time too. He had just sort of accepted it; besides, they chipped in on routine patrols and big-time crisises enough that Phil set places for them at the table, which, in Tony's book, meant they were probably Avengers now or something.

And there were others; a fast-talking merc they'd met on a run through San Juan who introduced himself as Deadpool and proceeded to run a sword through the guy they had been trying to bring in—a certain kind of helpful, sure, but not one Steve approved of much. Then there was the equally fast-talking spidery brat and his blind friend who hogged Hell's Kitchen and most of the Bronx; Tony liked the brat's smarts but couldn't stand his mouth. Reminded him too much of himself at that age.

It seemed like the more they did, and the longer they stayed, heroes were springing up; there was a new agency downtown, Heroes for Hire or something like that, which Tony had noticed actually getting _clients,_ which baffled him until Steve reminded him that they were off in space now on occasion, and people in the boroughs could probably use the extra help.

There were others, too—kids, sometimes, but Steve didn't speak of them, what with Bucky still holding a heavy weight on his heart, that sort of seemingly unnecessary risk causing him concern, and so Tony didn't bring it up. 

He did, however, shoo them off and tell them where Steve was that night should he be the one to find them. They seemed to like him for that, which was, frankly, a horrifying thought.

And the _mutants_ , good god, Tony couldn't even begin to deal with the sudden influx of mutants in New York. That was wholly and totally someone else's problem, (which, in this case, meant Phil.) 

On top of the mutants, there was another 'super-team' to contend with; the Fantastic Four, who had been off-world for awhile as of late, and decided to return to general crime-fighting. Tony would be more thrilled if he and Reed could stop bickering for ten minutes.

What he was trying to say was, there were a lot of superheroes lately, and that was a good thing; knowing that they had inspired this, convinced other people it was worth doing, and gave them the motivation to do it, well...it was kind of a relief, frankly. The weight of the world was a lot easier to bear when you had more arms holding it up with you.

Tony's entire life hadn't become superheroics, though; oh, no, there was plenty to deal with at home. Pepper was surreptitiously arranging things so she had a spare room on her and Bruce's floor, which Tony absolutely refused to talk about or acknowledge, hoping it would perhaps go away. He didn't want to know what Thor and Loki were doing _at all_. 

Thankfully, he figured for the time being, from the way they acted, _they_ didn't know what they were doing either.

Phil, Clint, and Natasha changed a lot over the months, bleeding into their first year solo; they didn't seem to know what to do with themselves for a large chunk of it at first, wandering about in a daze unless they were needed. 

It took a long, long time for them to re-create themselves, and in fact, they were still learning to do just that, even now. But, when the others came home one day for a huge summer dinner, dazed and out of breath and grinning with the exultation of the season, Phil had an enormous pot of sauce going on the stove while Clint played on one of Tony's tablets and Natasha read, their shoulders relaxed, their faces smooth and free of worry, and a record played on the table, they figured it was going pretty well.

And, finally, there was Steve. 

Tony had _truly_ taken it slow this time, especially when it came to the physical side of things. They spent their entire first month back together doing nothing more than kissing one another lightly on the mouth or the cheek and holding each other in bed. He got to know every contour, every soft line and hard, sharp plane of muscle upon his lover's body, and Steve did the same in kind. When they finally sat down to touch each other naked, Tony's hands skimmed over the skin before him as he realized with a smile that he knew this body already, familiar and yet so wonderful. 

When Steve kissed him, it felt better than anything, and that included Extremis, the constant streams of data and information and news playing out before him. In fact, the only times he ever turned it off, shut himself down and relaxed, were when he was with Steve. As if his lover knew, he was never far from Tony's side when they were home.

Tony got used to his body and the changes Extremis brought; one day, in fact, he woke up to find the arc reactor had fallen out of his chest and lay on the bed beside him. He flailed, panicking, before realizing that as he went to grab at his chest, smooth flesh met his fingertips. He stared in shock as he realized the rim had fallen onto the bed as well, forced out of his body somehow.

"Healing factor," Athena said when he stormed downstairs and shoved the reactor in her face, shouting something even he couldn't comprehend pre-coffee. "Took the damn thing awhile, but it healed you right up."

Steve took the reactor and ensured it sat, still glowing bright and content, on top of their dresser; the light comforted them both now, even though it was free to shine on its own.

Tony was grateful for the arc reactor finally leaving him; the nightmares dimmed and faded without its ever-present glow within him to remind him of those times, and Steve noticed.

"But," he said to Tony one day, as they laid in bed together, "honestly, sweetheart, you're not as happy as I thought you'd be."

Tony traced the circle of flesh where it had been and shrugged, grinning a bit as he looked up at Steve.

"You know," he said, "I'm happy, yeah...but it wasn't like I didn't know you didn't love me before."

Steve beamed bright enough to light up the entire city and hugged him until his body shook. Tony nuzzled into his touch and kissed his cheek with a soft, tender smile.

There were still fights; no matter how much Steve loved Tony, he still didn't sleep enough, neglected his meals, took too many risks, and occasionally plain and simply scared the shit out of Steve on a mission. The fights were never long, nor were they ever something that could damage them irreparably, not anymore; Steve had a shield, and Tony had armor, and sometimes they even needed it against one another. Still, it protected them, and protected their relationship, so they didn't quite mind.

And the fights were much outnumbered by the nights in bed, by the movies and the late-night dinners and the two AM breakfasts and Tony deciding they needed more ice cream _right now_ and taking Steve to a grocery store at four in the morning, and Steve kissing Tony until he laughed, genuine and real, so sensitive from Steve's kisses, and Steve sitting him down to model, and Tony carrying him across the city skyline in his armor, and all the little things they did together when they weren't Captain America and Iron Man; the things that kept them able and willing to be those heroes in the first place. Tony counted all that as worth the fights.

It was still confusing, sometimes; it got less so later on, when they really settled into a routine without Tony even realizing it. It only really clicked for him about halfway through their first year, standing in the kitchen at six in the morning while Steve cooked breakfast and he drank his coffee. The routine was so familiar, yet so tender, and the very complacency of it was what startled Tony out of his stupor, making him drop his mug.

"Forever?" He murmured, the word heavy with echoes in the room, resounding between them both. 

Steve flipped the French toast as it hissed softly on the griddle.

"Forever," he agreed. "Yes, of course. Now eat your breakfast, you only ate half your dinner last night. And clean up that cup before you get ceramic shards in your feet."

Tony just looked at him; Steve looked back, something warm and wonderful and indescribably fantastic in his eyes.

Tony pulled him close and kissed him, ignoring the wet coffee and shards of ceramic around his feet. Steve, ever the worrywart, lifted him up just in case.

Once Tony got used to the 'forever,' he started to really notice the here and now. Steve was so constant that Tony didn't even realize the permanency; when Tony stepped back and saw his routine, his life with Steve, he wanted to kick himself. Of course it was forever, it had _always_ been forever, and if not for him...

He confessed that to Steve one night, guilty and morose; Steve frowned and kissed his forehead, wrapping him up tighter in their blankets.

"No, Tony," he said. "What happened was because of both of us and our mistakes. This, though; your realization was all on you, Tony. You finally get it. And I'm so proud of you."

Tony nodded, hugging him tight and kissing his forehead. Steve smiled, kissing back.

"Forever," he promised. "It's all right, Tony. I love you so much. We've got forever now, so don't worry about it, okay? Just...let life happen. I'll be here for the rest of it, no matter what."

Tony kissed his cheek.

"Cheesy," he decided, "but very sweet." 

He squeezed Steve's hand and looked up at him.

"And, uh...hey, don't you worry about it either," Tony said. "No matter what happens, I'll make life happen for you, babe. You don't have to be alone. I'm gonna be here too. And you're not going to go anywhere."

"No," Steve promised, his whole face lighting up and centering around his broad grin. "No, I'm not going anywhere. Why would I want to? My place is here, with you. Because I love you."

"Yeah," Tony said. "I love me, too."

Steve started laughing; Tony just grinned, letting Steve kiss him all over and hold him tight, before suddenly, holding him down with a single broad hand and looking right into his eyes, careful and considering before finally, he smiled.

"Good," he said, satisfied, "That means you're ready."

Tony stared up at him, baffled.

"You love yourself like I do," Steve said, "so...uh..."

Steve just leaned down and kissed him then, warm and gentle.

Tony understood.

He had understood, the next morning, why Steve woke him up and made him come downstairs for breakfast, and why they went on patrol and then came home and watched a movie, and he saw it all with perfect clarity when Steve dragged him up from the lab at midnight, settling him in bed and tucking him in.

"So, uh...life," he said. "Life and making love."

"Basically," Steve said. "Passion's interesting, and fun...but love stays longer. And I wanted to show you that. I love you, Tony. Passionately and protectively, but...forever, too."

"Okay," Tony said, his voice breaking a bit before he could stop himself. "Okay, Steve. Love you too."

Steve beamed and kissed him, snuggling him close into his arms and kissing his forehead. Tony understood why they didn't go further. In fact...it sort of made him happy as they  drifted off together. It made it feel normal, regular; made it feel like forever.

Tony could live with forever instead of the future. After all, one led to the other, and either way, they both gave him Steve.


End file.
